Tainted: The Hero's Revenge
by LilyMagic
Summary: COMPLETE. After undergoing a dark transformation can Harry Potter resist corruption while he seeks vengeance and justice or will he unleash an evil worse than Voldemort's unto the afflicted magical world? A story of deception and blind love. Vampire!Harry
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling (except Henry Cunningham, my original character), various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is rated "M" for strong violence, gore and some vulgar language.

* * *

**Prologue**

_August 1996, Diagon Alley_

The pain growing in his chest and spreading throughout his body was maddening. He felt completely blind and all he could do was curl up on his side in fetal position and groan; his chest was burning up.

"Harry!" someone cried out hysterically, then that person screamed. Panic took over him, the pain suddenly forgotten. He tried to yell something but couldn't. He tried to move but couldn't move an inch. He tried to look to where they all were, but he couldn't see a thing. His face was wet with tears.

_Oh please make this stop! I have to help them! I have to..._

More screams and yelled curses came from all around him. Chaos. Things crashing all over the place, the unmistakable sound of bodies falling on the ground and on the walls of the buildings. All this was making him more and more desperate.

"Take him! Take the boy now, you fool!" roared a harsh voice.

"You will not!" someone else yelled back fiercely, and then the sound of curses crashing against the other ensued. The explosions from them were coming from all directions. Harry Potter now felt numb. The horrible, tormenting burning was spreading throughout his neck, face, and stomach. When his entire head felt like it was submerged in the fiery sensation, he let out a scream of agony.

He heard one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, yell out his name again desperately.

"Go Ron, take Hermione, you must!" someone yelled back at him amongst all the noise of the battle that had ensued.

"I cannot leave him!" cried Ron.

"Go now!" bellowed the other person, who he just realized was Arthur Weasley. It seemed they were all getting farther and farther away, or maybe _he _was. Time didn't seem to exist anymore. All he could do was repeat over and over in his mind.

_I cannot die. Please don't let me die..._

_I have to help them. I have to live. Please. _

**_Anything_**_ to let me live!_

Then he felt it; someone was holding him, taking him away from there in a powerful grasp. He was completely disoriented and blind; all he could feel was the pain and a strong wind against his body. Was this dying?

A hand stroked his hair and then he heard a whisper close to his ear, a voice like that of an angel.

"All will be fine, child. No more pain."

How lovely to hear that voice! How divine it was among this hell he was in, to hear a voice like that say those things.

The gusts of wind suddenly stopped. He was still disoriented and barely felt the ground underneath. Where was he?

"Do you still wish to live, young one?" asked the angel's voice. The tone was highly sympathetic but also very sad. He couldn't understand what was going on, but he didn't have time to understand. He felt like he was starting to fade away from this world, like he was leaving his body. He couldn't speak, although he kept thinking; _yes...let me live. _

_Please let me live. _

Before he knew it, his lips were wet.

"Drink this. It will give you life."

He opened his mouth and savored some warm liquid. He was in too much pain to think. He just drank and drank, suddenly realizing how divine it tasted. Then out of nowhere, a thought came to him.

_Elixir of life. I am drinking the Elixir of life from this angel._

He couldn't bare it when it was taken away. He wanted more; he _needed _more. But the pain was already going away. He could feel his body again.

"More..." he managed to whisper, weakly and barely audible. The torment was going away amazingly fast, his vision was finally returning...

"Not today," answered the angel. "For now, _you will not remember_."

Blackness took over immediately and Harry fell into the most delicious, soothing sleep he's ever had.


	2. Weakness

**I - Weakness**

* * *

Harry Potter couldn't remember anything that happened that day after being hit with the Death Eater's curse. It seemed that almost as soon as he awoke from that deep, pleasant sleep, it was back to his accustomed troublesome life.

**_THE BOY WHO LIVED MIRACULOUSLY SURVIVES ATTACK _**

**_CHOSEN ONE - RESURRECTED?_**

Those were some of the titles and headlines of most wizard newspapers after that day. But how exactly did he vanish in the middle of the battle and then be found lying on another street from the other side of Diagon Alley, no one knew. People simply said, 'The Boy Who Live is always full of miracles like this one'. For those that found him, it had been beyond relief to see him there alive - and, amazingly, unscathed. The members of the Order were shocked when they realized a countercurse was unnecessary, especially since some of them saw him suffer so greatly moments before. Yet none saw how he disappeared from the scene.

A month had passed.

Harry was thankful that his friends were finally healed from their wounds. Now they were all together on the train to Hogwarts, pretending life was normal again. In only three months they had battled many vicious Death Eaters _twice _and survived. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny - the Slytherins mockingly called them the "Golden Gryffindor six".

"You alright there, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Huh?"

Harry was sitting next to the compartment door, staring off into space. Slowly he turned his head and looked at his friend. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Earth calling Harry. Honestly, you've been such weirdo lately. If you want to check out a girl or something..."

"Oh shut up," snapped Harry and looked away.

"...Maybe you should take off your sunglasses. It's not discreet," continued his friend, laughing. "And besides, we're _inside_ the train now, you know..."

The others were smiling at him along with Ron, contemplating him.

"Oh, right..."

He totally forgot he had them on since he could see perfectly and comfortably this way. He took them off and felt a sharp pain on his eyes immediately.

_Ugh...blinding light!_

He felt like he had looked directly at the sun. Luckily the others were no longer looking at him and didn't notice the pained expression on his face.

"Hermione, could you please put the shades on the window?" said Harry after a few moments of enduring it. "The light's really bothering me."

"Sure..." answered Hermione. She pulled the shades as she continued her conversation with Ginny. Then Harry was lost in his thoughts again, while he pretended to listen to his friends.

Lately, he was just feeling strange. He couldn't explain it well to anyone else, but he was changing, ever since that day in Diagon Alley. The only visible change people seemed to notice was his corrected vision. He no longer needed glasses; apparently, it had been fixed magically somehow. But also, every other sense was stronger in him now. He could hear people whispering from within other rooms of a house, he could smell things that were far away, he was suddenly sensitive to light... this all annoyed him. The light of the sun was hurting him, and he loved the night so much now. It was weird how he longed to be in a cool, dark room all the time.

But what bothered him was something much more deep, from inside of his soul and being. He was feeling weak and tired most of the time, and no matter what he ate, he still felt hungry and thirsty. He was constantly in a bad mood. And to top it all off, all food gave him a nasty stomachache.

* * *

_What is wrong with me?_

A pale looking Harry stared at his plate with dread. Why did he hate eating so much now? He used to love it before. But now...he just couldn't stand the thought of eating food. He tried to pay attention to the Headmaster's welcoming speech and not think about it. A few minutes later Dumbledore finally said, "...And now on to the Sorting. May our new students enter the Great Hall."

Amongst all the clapping, he heard Hermione whisper to him in concern. "Harry, aren't you going to eat anything?"

The large doors opened and the new students started to enter.

"No...not hungry..." answered Harry absent-mindedly.

Right next to him, Ron laughed. "Oh no Harry. Now we have to be worried that you have an eating disorder!"

Harry ignored this.

"Oh, shut up Ron. Won't you ever grow up?" snapped Hermione, annoyed.

Ron hissed at her. "_Sorry!_ Merlin. It was only a joke..."

Harry stopped listening to them. He immediately noticed that other than first years, there were about three students who were obviously older. There was a small blonde boy, a curly haired girl, and another one who immediately caught his attention. Harry assumed that he must be as old as he was, probably a sixth year as well. He was tall, slim but well built, and had straight, light brown hair that fell in strands above his large, dark brown eyes, giving him a slightly unkempt but very charming appearance. He had a sly expression on his face, and he simply stood out from the crowd in a strange manner. Even the way he moved was just different. He also came into the Hall in a manner that one would come into one's own house, like he had come inside the place a million times.

Harry heard Ginny say to Hermione very quietly, "Who could _that _be? The tall one..."

"I expect he's transferred from another wizard school here in England - he looks british..."

"Isn't he just _gorgeous_?" whispered Ginny. Harry swiftly glanced at the two dazed looking girls. Ginny blushed when she realized he probably heard her. Harry smiled in amusement and continued to look at the new students. He noticed that most of the girls in the Hall were also staring at the new guy and whispering amongst themselves, smiling and giggling.

_At least now Ron's got another bloke to be jealous of._

Minerva McGonagall read what she explained to the new students every year; they were to sit down on the stool and wear the Sorting hat, which will place them in one of the four Houses. The official Sorting began.

"Do you think he'll be sorted into Gryffindor, Hermione?" whispered Ginny shyly. This time she forgot to be quiet. Her brother smiled annoyingly at her.

"Oh, sister already has a crush? Uuuuu..." said Ron loud enough to make Ginny blush furiously. She glared at him.

"Shut up, brother!"

"Don't even bother, the bloke's probably too old for you anyway..."

Hermione slapped Ron's arm. "Stop bothering her, Ronald!"

"Bright, Amanda," called McGonagall, and the curly haired girl sat on the stool with the hat. After a few moments, she was sorted in Ravenclaw, and that House's table erupted in cheers, proud that one of the few older students was placed there. Harry clapped along with the others indifferently; he also wanted to know where that brown haired guy was going to be sorted...

"Cunningham, Henry," called McGonagall. The wizard in question had been standing with his arms crossed, looking bored, and when he heard his name he approached the stool nonchalantly.

"Gryffindor...come on, be in Gryffindor..." pleaded Ginny, her fingers crossed.

But Henry Cunningham barely sat in the stool and the hat barely touched his head before it declared, "SLYTHERIN!"

Roars and cheers came from the Slytherin table - they were almost deafening - as the newly sorted student walked to their table. Apparently they knew him somehow and he was popular there. Harry was immediately reminded of how Draco Malfoy was sorted in his First Year.

Everyone else was clapping but immediately Ron leaned toward Hermione and his sister and sneered, "You see? You've got to watch out for bad eggs like him. You were starting to like a nasty _slytherin._"

"Always the judgmental one, dear brother," sneered Ginny.

"_Judgmental_?" exclaimed Ron in obvious amazement. "Are you joking? Tell me of _one_ decent Slytherin you know, just one!"

They continued to argue, but Harry was used to blocking them from his mind when they did. His attention was focused on Henry Cunningham, who was walking across the Slytherin table now, finding a place to sit. To Harry's horror, he saw Draco Malfoy stand up almost at the other end of the table, smile at Henry, and - even amongst the loud noise, Harry somehow heard him - exclaimed, "Cunningham!" like you would to a close friend you hadn't seen in a long time. When Cunningham approached him they shook hands in a way that indicated they must indeed know each other very well.

Apparently Ron had been watching this too. His piecing voice had become louder.

"...see, he's friends with _Malfoy._ Now dare to tell me I'm wrong about him!"

Ginny ignored him, unable to come up with an opposing argument, but other Gryffindors expressed their agreement. Again Harry's mind was elsewhere; something about this Henry Cunningham had him enthralled and he couldn't take his attention away from him. The others around him were now cheering very loudly when the last older kid - the blonde one - was sorted into Gryffindor, but Harry merely clapped just as indifferently as before, and he kept glancing back at Cunningham and Malfoy.

Once after the Sorting had ended and people continued dining, Harry was caught off guard when the new Slytherin met his eye and noticed Harry was looking at him. Embarrassed, he looked away. Something in the other's gaze bothered him but interested him at the same time. The next time he dared to look again, he was again surprised when he saw they weren't there anymore. He caught a glimpse of Cunningham and Malfoy as they were leaving the Great Hall together, well before dinner had ended. Harry wished he could do the same; the smell of the food was making him sick already.

"I wonder what those two are up to," whispered Ron.

"You have been as observant as I, Ron..." replied Harry.

"Yeah...but I don't know Harry, this new bloke...I have a bad feeling about him. He gives off a dark vibe...Did you get the same feeling?"

Harry nodded but he hadn't been listening to his friend that much. He stood up from the table.

"Harry! Aren't you going to eat anything?"

"Where are you going?"

His two best friends had spoken at the same time.

"No...nowhere..." answered Harry indifferently, and he walked toward the exit of the Great Hall, ignoring their calls.

* * *

The Slytherin common room was empty except for two boys that were in the area of the fireplace. One was pacing in apparent tension and the other was sitting in one of the large, black leather armchairs. Henry Cunningham had a relaxed, patient expression as he looked at his companion. He was resting his feet on the table before him, his body casually leaning against the armrest.

"You see? This is impossible for me," whined Draco Malfoy. "How am I supposed to accomplish all that? Alone? Three impossible tasks!"

"Draco, calm down. Why, again, do you think he's asked this of you?" asked Henry, his tone serious yet calm.

Draco Malfoy almost growled in apparent hatred. "That _Potter_," he spat. "It's all his fault, him and that stupid Dumbledore's Order! They caught my father back in June, remember? He's in Azkaban and this made the Dark Lord angry. He thinks my father failed him..."

Draco sat in the armchair next to Henry Cunningham's, anxiety evident on every part of his face. "Can you imagine what will happen if someone here found out? What if they see it somehow! I think I'm gonna be sick..."

"Allow me to see it again, Draco. I cannot believe my eyes...someone as young as you are..."

Draco got a little closer to Cunningham, looked around the room, and pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. There on his left forearm was the hideous Dark Mark; the snake coming out of the skull's mouth, curling up in a knot. It was evident the mark was newly made. The flesh around it still looked burned.

"This bloody thing hurts..." whispered Draco, as he looked at it with the same disgust as Cunningham. He hid it back under his sleeve.

"What a hideous thing. He is obviously desperate," whispered Henry. "You're saying he did this as revenge for your father's failure?"

"Yes! I know he doesn't expect me to succeed. He's looking for an excuse to kill me off along with my family!" said Draco in obvious fear. He looked like he was about to cry and his gaze dropped in embarrassment.

The other boy stared at Draco with a very serious expression and said softly, "That must never happen."

"I know..."

"You must succeed in this task."

Draco looked up, trying to repress his fear. "And how in the hell am I supposed to do that? Do you honestly think I can do it?"

"Yes."

Draco stood from his armchair and knelt next to the other's. "Lord Cunningham..."

"Just call me Henry," said Cunningham with a dismissive hand gesture. "Always call me that when we're here."

"Oh, yes, of course...Henry," Draco corrected himself hesitantly. "Thank Merlin you are here. You can help me!" he pleaded desperately.

"I could," responded the other coldly. "But what will I get in return?"

Draco looked at Henry with surprise. "Please, I beg you to help me...the loyalty between out families-"

"Oh come on," said the other with a mischievous smirk. "Of course I'm joking. We purebloods, the few of us left, must always help each other."

Draco sighed with relief. "Thank Merlin..."

"Does Severus Snape know?"

"Yes, of course...but I still do not fully trust him. He is an important part of the plan, but...I need your guidance and wisdom..."

"And you shall have it."

Draco smirked with satisfaction and stood up. "Then it's a deal. Let's make a wizard's vow."

"Certainly," answered Henry Cunningham, and for the first time, he smiled.

* * *

With increasing dread, Harry approached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

Dread...he was getting a lot of it lately.

"Where the hell were you, Harry?" demanded Ron the second his friend entered the room.

"You want to be my mum now, Ron?" snapped Harry irritably, then sank down, exhausted, in his favorite armchair. He didn't look at any of his friends. He assumed a comfortable position and placed his leg over the arm of the chair, and strands of his jet-black hair, which was almost shoulder-length, fell on his eyes carelessly. He didn't even bother to move them away.

"You alright, Harry?" asked Hermione after a brief silence.

"Yeah."

"Tell us, where were you?" demanded Ron, again.

"Where do you think I was?" asked Harry tiredly. He sighed and spoke almost in a whisper. "Tell them, Ron. Where do you think I was, being Harry and all?"

His friend only looked at him with a confused expression. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

"Don't be thick, what was the last thing we talked about? What do you think I did afterwards, being how I am?" said Harry rapidly, so that his friends had to struggle to hear what he just said. There was another brief moment of silence.

"Ohh..." said Ron in realization.

"Ahh! _Now_ you got there!" exclaimed Harry sarcastically.

"Wait...did you actually..." Ron's eyes had gotten wide with excitement. "Did you follow Malfoy?"

"Mmm-hmm."

His friends all exchanged looks of understanding. It was a typical thing for Harry to do.

"Well? Did you find out anything useful?" asked Hermione.

"Not a goddamn thing. They went into the Slytherin common room."

Hermione shot him a disapproving look, but he wasn't looking; yet somehow he knew she did it. He could sense her disapproval in the atmosphere of the room, another odd ability he didn't have before.

"Well, that's a shame," said Ron. "Otherwise you might have heard them talk about their beloved snake-like master."

Ginny snorted, clearly annoyed, and changed the subject.

"Harry - you missed the shock of the century during dinner tonight."

"_Really_?" replied Harry skeptically.

Apparently it had been indeed a great shock, because he could feel the others' excitement at the mention of it.

"Yeah, the supposed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher curse, you know? It was broken tonight! Or else it never existed..." said Ginny excitedly. "Guess who's it going to be this year? And _don't_ spoil it Ron!" she added when her brother opened his mouth.

This finally motivated Harry to sit up slightly, and he looked at Ginny. Somehow, as he looked into her eyes, he heard it from her mind without any effort of his part, like if she had said it out loud.

_Professor Lupin! _

"Lupin!" said Harry in genuine surprise and happiness, which he hadn't felt in a long time. He sat up completely.

"Yeah!" cried Ginny. "Isn't it great? _Nobody _expected it..."

"Wow...you guessed it really fast..." said Hermione, genuinely impressed.

"Well that's because he read her mind..." mocked Ron.

_How ironic. I DID read her mind...but how, I don't know..._

"Bet Dumbledore's gotten into trouble with some people for this, then?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. They're some idiots who are opposed to it, you know, Lupin being what he is..." said Ron with a dark expression.

"But he's been taking the potions everyday for a long time now, he hasn't had a transformation in ages..." added Hermione.

Harry couldn't explain it, but he felt a very strong sympathy for Lupin because of this. He could understand how incredibly frustrating it must be to be shunned for being different, for being misunderstood, when you only had good intentions for everyone. For some reason, he felt personally identified with him.

"Well, that's at least _one_ good thing so far. A Defense teacher that _doesn't_ want to kill me!" exclaimed Harry with an exaggerated, sarcastic tone. The others laughed.

Many hours later, when the common room was empty except for him, and the fire was dying out, he finally felt a little comfort. It was an unexplained delight being in that dimly lit, cool room like he had wanted all day. The freezing rain outside brought gusts of nice cold hair through the opened window. He was drifting off in that armchair, savoring the pleasure of solitude and darkness, what he was drawn to most ever since that very strange day. And then as he looked back at his memories of the incident, out of nowhere came an image he had never thought about before; him, in the midst of his suffering, being carried away from the middle of the battle, flying through the air. Strong gusts of winds caressing his face, and then a voice - a beautiful, angelic voice like he had never heard before telling him, "No more pain."

He froze. Where did this come from? He tried as much as he could to remember it more clearly, but that was all he could recall. He couldn't figure out if it had actually happened or if it had been a dream.

Then all of the sudden, his thoughts were interrupted. Somehow, he sensed that someone had entered the room, and that it was Hermione Granger.

"Harry? Are you here?" she asked gently. She was standing next to the stairway to the girls' dormitories. He knew this even without watching her.

He sat up in the armchair. "Yeah...It's me..."

As she approached he could also sense her concern for him. She sat in the low table right in front of him and studied his face.

"It's two o' clock in the morning, Harry...aren't you tired?"

"Not really. What about you?"

"Yeah, but I just...woke up, wondering if you were up still. Don't you want to go to sleep? We have to get up early tomorrow. You know that."

He sighed and sat back. "You know that lately I haven't been able to. No matter how much I try, I just can't."

"Try again..." she pleaded. Her eyes almost expressed pity for him, which he didn't like at all. She reached out and touched his hand, but retracted really fast, like if she had been electrocuted. "Harry! Your hands are ice cold!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Aren't you freezing in here?"

He was surprised and puzzled at this. He rubbed his hands together. Were they really that cold?

"No, I'm not cold actually. I think it's nice in here."

"_Nice?_ Are you serious?" said Hermione, and she wrapped the coat she was wearing above her nightdress tighter around her body, shivering. "It's cold as death in here! How can you like it?"

"I don't know...I just do."

"Harry..." Hermione's tone suddenly changed to really serious. "What is going on with you? You've told me you've been feeling all these strange things lately. You're more quiet and irritable than ever, you don't eat or sleep...why?"

"I wish I knew," he answered in frustration. "I told you last time, I _don't know_ what is happening to me! And I _don't remember_ what happened to me that day, alright?"

And then the image came back to him again, the one he thought about moments before. He would have told her about it then, if it wasn't because he was still very confused. Was it a dream or reality? He regretted using the harsh tone when he saw her sad expression.

"Harry...I'm sorry...I really am...I'm just so worried for you," she pleaded, and again she reached out and held his hand, this time without retracting. "But I've told you a million times..."

"I know, you don't have to mention it," he said. She was pulling him up and they both stood up. "Speak to Dumbledore, I know. But he's been too busy for me, you see? Before today we hadn't seen him at all for what? Three weeks? How am I supposed-"

"Yes, I know..." interrupted Hermione, frustration evident in her face as well.

"It's always that. Dumbledore. Like if he had the answer to everything..."

"We have no one else to ask, Harry...what else can we do?"

They stayed silent for a moment. Then she was leading him toward the dormitories. When they reached the entrances, she surprised him completely by giving him an amorous hug and a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Please _try_ to rest, alright? Try. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night."

Harry walked up the stairs knowing what was to come: another restless night of lying in bed fully awake, tossing and turning.

* * *

To Harry's dislike, the next day of class was indeed a very sunny once since morning. He told his friends he skipped breakfast because he hadn't slept the night before - which was true - and he just couldn't get out of bed, but there were two other reasons. He refused to get out of the comfort provided by the thick curtains around his bed and he felt nauseous at the thought of any food whatsoever.

They were waiting for the first period teacher to arrive when, right next to him in the Potions table, Ron banged his fist against it.

"_Damn it!" _he said pretty loudly, apparently not caring at all who heard him. "_Three _classes with the Slytherins this semester! _Including _double Potions with Snape! What did I do to deserve this? Oh, the horror..."

"Ronald, you'll only make it worse by whining about it," reprimanded Hermione. "And keep it down, he'll be here any minute -"

"What's the use in arguing, 'Mione," interrupted Harry as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Let him complain. It's what he _does_." He honestly thought that he would have to hold his eyes open with his fingers throughout the whole class. Or fall asleep right under Snape's ugly nose.

"I'm sorry alright? But how am I gonna survive?" asked Ron melodramatically. "And to top it all off, I didn't know I was gonna get into the N.E.W.T level until this morning, so I don't have the damned book! I know he's gonna use that as an excuse -"

"Oh, no, what's the matter Weasley," came a very familiar sneering voice from the entrance of the classroom, mocking the melodramatic tone. "Can't find yourself a couple of galleons to buy a book?"

Like a gang they came into the classroom, four intimidating-looking Slytherins; Malfoy, of course, Nott, Zabini, and - awakening Harry's immediate interest - the new one, Henry Cunningham. Since the previous night, he had forgotten all about the boy's existence. And there he was again, looking as intriguing as ever. Unlike the other Slytherins, he looked pleasant and friendly. He gave a charming, flirtatious smile to a group of Ravenclaw girls, who returned it to him before they giggled quietly and whispered to each other, looking at him with obvious admiration. The group of Slytherin boys sat on the same table as them.

The moment Draco had finished his taunt, Hermione had pulled Ron's sleeve and whispered to him, "Don't say a thing, just ignore him."

He listened to her, sort of. He glared at Draco and showed him his middle finger, but said nothing. Draco made a sarcastic, "offended" expression and said "Uuuu, manners, Weasley King," which made the others laugh, even the non-Slytherins. Ron was fuming with anger, and Harry heard him muttering under his breath, "That fucking Death Eater wannabe, pig..." He was looking at the group of boys like he wanted to kill them all. "Him and that pretty boy-"

"What is it with you and that new kid!" snapped Hermione, who obviously heard him.

"He's too fake, that bloke, just look at him!" argued Ron, his tone reflecting plain envy.

At that moment when the three of them looked at Henry, he was talking to the girls sitting in their table, who were all smiling at him and laughing. The blonde girl sitting next to him kept touching his arm and giggling as he spoke to her, and then they heard him say to her 'What's your name again, darling?' in a smooth voice, leaning closer to her. Ron snorted.

"...Oh, please. He wants to look so suave and whatnot, and he's a bloody Slytherin-"

"Oh and because he's a Slytherin he can't be 'suave' like you say?" argued Hermione. "Whatever, Ron, you're just jealous. Admit it."

"_Jealous? _Are you mad? Why would I be jealous?"

This time it was Harry that groaned, and he put his head down on the desk, on top of his crossed arms. He was way too sleepy and feeling too cranky to hear a stupid argument, especially when he knew that in a matter of seconds his most hated professor would arrive.

The seconds went by way too fast for him. The sneering voice ordering them around, the greasy black hair and hooked nose, the predictable hateful look directed personally at him; this all indicated that Severus Snape had arrived, and that the nightmare had turned into reality.

The class went by in a blur for Harry, probably due to his level of drowsiness, and also because he was way too accustomed to Snape's cruel taunts and injustice. Of course he went off on Ron for not having the book, no matter what the poor kid said, and took ten points from Gryffindor. Of course he kept snapping at Harry for looking like he'd fall asleep any minute, and threatening to take more points off only because of this. Of course he avoided awarding Hermione her well-deserved points for knowing the answers to all the questions, even though he awarded the new Slytherin boy the points when _he_ answered one of them. Of course it was going to be like this, it was Snape after all.

But unlike before, Harry honestly didn't care. All he wanted at the moment was his bed and its thick curtains.

"The final test for this class constitutes _forty_ percent of your total grade for this term, and it will be done in pairs," said Snape in his typical slow, sneering voice. "It is essential that you follow all of the instructions _exactly _as I have written them, even if you are not one of those who definitely _lack_" he looked straight at Harry as he said it. "- any potions ability. After all, you will be dealing with poisons and remedies, and therefore, risking your lives..."

"IT IS FOR THIS REASON -" Snape considerably raised his voice as he stared at Harry, who was spacing out. " - _Potter_, are you listening?"

Harry nodded indifferently. "Yes, sir."

"For this reason," he continued after making sure everyone in the room had looked at Harry, as he walked toward his desk at the front of the classroom. "I will be assigning the pairs according to each student's ability. In each pair there will be one who is skilled and another who is _less_ skilled. I want to make sure no one _messes _up. As soon as I name the pairs, you will get together and look for the potions you wish to work on, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," answered the students in unison.

"Very well, let's see, one who lacks skill...Ah, yes. Potter!"

Malfoy and his cohorts sniggered as usual. Harry glared at Snape. "Yes?"

"You go with Cunningham," ordered Snape, gesturing at Cunningham to move next to Harry. The boy nodded and started to put the materials they had been using throughout the class inside his bag. The girls from his table looked very disappointed by this. The one that was flirting with him actually frowned.

Snape was now pacing around the room with a mean smirk on his face. "Alright, now...another one without skill...of course, Weasley!"

More sniggers from the Slytherin table. Ron didn't even answer and only glared at Snape.

"You go with..." this time Snape considered for a moment, looking amused in his sick, cruel way. "You go with..." For a moment he looked directly at Malfoy, which immediately wiped the blonde boy's smirk off his face. Draco looked horrified for a moment and shook his head in a pleading gesture. Snape smiled and looked at Ron, who did the same thing. He looked back and forth between one and the other, both of whom displayed the same comical expression. It was evident he enjoyed that moment a lot.

"...Miss Johnson."

Both Ron and Malfoy sighed in obvious relief. One of the Ravenclaw girls responded, and Ron was forced to move to their table. Snape kept on naming the pairs and ordering them around the classroom as Henry Cunningham finally approached Harry Potter's table.

"Hello there, Henry Cunningham," he said with a charming smile as he reached out to shake Harry's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too," responded Harry as he shook his hand, surprised to meet a well-mannered Slytherin.

Henry bowed his head in a humble gesture and then looked at Hermione and smiled at her too. "And you are Miss Granger."

"Oh, yes," said Hermione as he shook her hand as well. "Hi..." She was smiling brightly at him.

Henry settled between the two of them and, leaning closer to Hermione, whispered to her, "You were wonderful in class. You deserved those points."

"Oh..." Hermione said with great surprise. She giggled nervously and she blushed. "Well, thank you..."

"You seem smarter than all of us dung-heads in this room combined."

Again, she giggled, not knowing what to respond to such unexpected praise. Henry laughed softly with her, looking at her as she looked away from him in apparent embarrassment.

"Well...I read a lot that's all..." she said, still blushing, and unconsciously twisting some of her hair between her fingers. Harry was surprised as he looked at Hermione, as he saw that flirty, "girly" side of her that hadn't seen before.

The Slytherin gave one last charming chuckle and lightly touched her arm. "Well, you keep doing that."

He now turned to Harry. As he did, Harry saw Hermione smile very brightly, like she had been containing it and let it out now that Henry wasn't looking. Until the moment Snape called her, she kept the same smile on her face.

"I'm sorry. I had to tell her this. It's unfair, really..." said Henry very quietly as he looked at Snape. The bloke was full of surprises; this was an attitude Harry definitely didn't expect from a Slytherin.

"Yeah...it's always been like this, though," replied Harry.

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's unfortunate. And the comment about the lack of ability; so unnecessary."

Harry laughed resentfully at this.

"Oh, and before I forget..." said Henry. He put his hand inside one of the pockets of his robe and took out a small glass vial, of the type used to contain potions, that was filled with a transparent liquid that looked like water. "I noticed you were having a _little bit_ of trouble staying awake." He smiled at Harry as he handed him the vial. "This will help you out. You'll see. Just take one drop each day."

Harry stared at the glass he was now holding. "You surprise me. What exactly is this?"

Henry leaned in closer to Harry and asked in a whisper, "Have you and your friends ever tried absinmine?"

Harry moved away a bit and raised his eyebrows. Absinmine was a type of wizard drug - potion, to be precise - that gave people a very powerful burst of energy. It was mostly used by young wizards when they wanted to party all night long, and it was also illegal because of all its harmful side effects. He hadn't tried it, but he knew about it because Fred and George had indeed used it a couple of times and told him about it.

"No...I haven't..."

Henry laughed softly at Harry. "Relax, this is not absinmine. It's a much subtle - and _legal_ - version of it. It'll keep you wide-awake all day, guaranteed. You see, I _also_ have problems sleeping at night. I don't know what I'd do without this. But I have a lot in store, so you can have it."

"Begin working, all of you!" commanded Snape at that moment. His harsh voice caused everyone to react immediately and open their respective books. Harry put the vial inside his robes.

"Thanks..." he said tentatively, although he was still confused as to why - again - a _Slytherin_ was being nice to him. He couldn't help but feel distrustful.

"Don't worry, it's not poison or anything!" said Henry all of the sudden with a laugh, for a moment making Harry think he had read his mind. "I swear, it's what I told you. Not harmful in any way. You can look for it in this very textbook, it's called Enertentia. I'll show it to you."

Henry showed him the excerpt from the textbook that explained the potion in question. Harry soon figured, Hey, why not trust a Slytherin for once?

After what seemed like an eternity, the class ended.

"See you at the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Potter," said Henry as he stood up. "Remember the potion," he added with a smirk, and then walked away.

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry unenthusiastically. He felt like drinking some of it now, but he hadn't completely made up his mind about trusting him yet. He started to gather his class materials very slowly, like if he had nowhere else to go all day.

Outside the classroom, Henry found himself again at the company of Draco Malfoy, along with the other Slytherins, as they all walked down the crowded corridor.

"So how was that?" asked Draco with a smirk. "Enjoyed spending time with our dear Scarhead Potter?" They all sniggered and continued to make their typical Potter-hating comments.

"Eh, he's alright I guess," responded Henry indifferently.

Draco laughed. "You know, you _can_ be honest around us. You can stop acting."

Henry smiled at Draco with amusement. "_Act?_ What do you mean?" he said sarcastically. "Oh, but who wants to talk about Potter? Forget it. Where are all those beautiful girls you boasted about, Draco? Did you make them up?"

"Of course I haven't!" snapped Draco and they all laughed and proceeded to make their usual sexist comments about the girls in the school. "There's a few good ones. Which do you prefer, blonde, brunette...?"

At that precise moment, another group of girls were walking toward the opposite direction of the corridor; two brunettes and one red head. When they were approaching the Slytherins, Henry leaned toward Draco and said, "See? Like that girl in the middle. When will I meet one like _her_?"

Draco suddenly had a disgusted expression on his face. "Are you mad? Definitely not her."

"Why?" asked Henry. He flashed a smile at the girls, which they all returned. The one in the middle gave him another very flirtatious look and Henry winked at her. She blushed and giggled along with her friends as they walked past them.

"She's not an option, Henry," said Draco as soon as the girls were farther away. "I mean she'd be alright...if she wasn't a bloody Weasley that is!"

The others expressed their agreement. But Henry remained silent for a while. "That's unfortunate," he said absent-mindedly. Then he leaned closer to Draco and whispered very quietly, "That's the girl, isn't she?" Draco nodded discreetly and a little nervously.

"You're getting all friendly with the worst girls of all!" said Nott, who was behind him. "I saw you talking to that Mudblood!"

They all made an almost unanimous "Ughh" sound. "Yeah, that was pretty horrible, Henry. The _Mudblood_," added Draco.

"You mean Granger? She's a Mudblood?" exclaimed Henry with the first sign of genuine surprise. "But how is that possible, she was brilliant..."

"Eh, she's a book worm that's all she is."

Henry now looked traumatized. "Dear Merlin. We should brand all of them with an 'M' for 'Mudblood' on their foreheads!"

They laughed and laughed as they reached the end of that corridor and walked down the stairs.

* * *

The students were getting up from their desks to leave the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when Harry heard someone say to him, "Drink it, you'll feel better." When he turned, sure enough, it had been Henry. Harry still looked like he could fall asleep standing up. The Slytherin smiled and continued his way out of the classroom along with the others.

"Drink what?" asked Ron with a confused expression. Along with Hermione, he stared at Harry, who was still sitting with no visible motivation to move anywhere.

"He gave me this on Potions class," said Harry. He took out the small glass vial and Hermione immediately took it and studied it closely.

"What is that?" asked Ron, looking at the vial suspiciously.

Harry shrugged. "It's an energizing potion. He said it'll help me keep awake."

"Yeah right," said Ron with a snort. "Sure...drink it if you want to poison yourself. It's probably some deadly-"

"Oh come on, Ron!" interrupted Hermione. "No poison is transparent like this. Is this Enertentia, Harry?"

"Yeah. I read about it in the Potions text book, actually."

"How can you be sure it's the one?" countered Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well why don't you take a look at the textbook yourself Ronald? That might help!" she snapped at him, then turned back to Harry. "This potion will indeed keep you awake, Harry, but that will be for the entire day and night! It's very strong-"

"Well, that won't affect me. It's not like I've been able to sleep for the past month," said Harry irritably. His friends looked at him with concern.

"Excuse me," said a voice that made them all turn around. It was professor Lupin; they had forgotten he was still there. "Can I speak to you in private, Harry?"

"Of course."

Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Harry and left the classroom. He was very distracted because he could hear them resume their argument even if they were far away in the corridor, walking away toward another part of the castle.

"I can't believe you're trusting that new bloke!" Ron was saying incredulously.

"He looks like a decent person, alright! You don't know him!"

"Neither do you! _Never_ trust a Slytherin, Hermione, when will you learn! Even worse, _never_ trust anyone who's friends with Malfoy!"

"Harry."

Harry Potter's vision suddenly became focused again and he could see Lupin standing in front of him.

"Yes?" he responded absent-mindedly, trying to get his friends' voices out of his head. He could hear them as clearly as if they were standing right next to him.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Lupin.

But Harry could still hear his friends arguing, no matter how much he tried to block them out.

"You fancy him don't you?" Ron was saying, obviously upset.

"NO!" snapped Hermione with indignation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You have a weakness for Harry's enemies! First Krum now this!"

"I can't _believe_ you!" Hermione cried. She seemed very angry.

_Damn it, make it stop! _

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "No, professor. I'm _not _alright."

Slowly, the voices died down and became only whispers. Lupin sat down next to Harry and his face reflected only genuine and strong concern. "I noticed you are feeling very exhausted. You look ill."

"I haven't been able to sleep for a long time. Well, since what happened a month ago, precisely," answered Harry with a miserable expression. "And it's not like I'm more anxious now than I was before that. I just can't fall asleep! No matter how tired I am..."

"Can you sleep during the day?"

Harry stared at the professor for a while. "I don't really have time for that. But I think that a couple of times I _have _been able to fall asleep, but only for a couple of minutes...like in classes, for example" he added with embarrassment.

"Oh don't worry about that," said Lupin with a chuckle. His warm, fatherly smile made Harry feel a little better. "What else do you feel?"

Harry sighed again. He didn't know where to begin. As he spoke, Lupin looked at him closely, into his eyes, searching through his mind. "I have been feeling so many strange things. For starters, just moments ago I was hearing my friends argue when they were walking away through the corridor. I heard them as if they were inside my head. This happens to me unexpectedly, and it's driving me mad...I hear people talking who are very far away from me."

"Does it happen when you want to?"

"No. I don't know how to control it. And then it's really hard to get the voices out of my head. So many other things are different now. I can also 'sense' things...I don't know how to explain it. It's like I can read people's minds or something, but I don't know how I can do it..."

Lupin's eyes widened just a bit. He sensed the young wizard was being completely honest. He could read minds?

"Everything... just feels different. I also can't eat! Again I have no idea _why_."

"You can't eat?"

"Yes, but every food gives me a stomachache and I feel no desire for it at all. Actually, I feel repulsed by it. No matter if I _do_ eat I still feel very weak. I just _don't understand_. What on earth is happening to me?"

Lupin continued to study Harry, his worry increasing with each second.

_So Dumbledore's suspicions are probably true..._

About ten minutes before his class was going to start, Lupin was reading on his desk in the classroom, waiting for his students to arrive. He didn't expect to hear Albus Dumbledore's voice.

"_Remus. May I have a quick word? I'm sorry to bother you."_

_He looked up from his book and saw the familiar long white beard, the dark purple robes. _

"_Of course," replied Lupin with a polite smile. He stood up and the Headmaster approached him. "What happened, sir?"_

_He could see that even behind the old man's calm face and sparkling eyes, there was deep worry and anxiety. His tone was as deceivingly calm as his face. _

_"Remus, I am leaving now and, unfortunately, I will have to be gone for some days," explained Dumbledore. "Minerva will take my place meanwhile. I wanted to remind you to please do as I told you earlier."_

"_Yes, of course sir."_

_Dumbledore had a very serious expression as he spoke to Lupin, looking into the man's eyes, both of their voices hushed and secretive._

"_Remember to always watch over Harry very closely," whispered Dumbledore. "Be aware of his thoughts whenever you can, search them to see if there's anything worrisome. In case my suspicions are proven true, you must remember that this new nature might corrupt him. We have to prevent this at all costs."_

"_Of course, you don't need to worry," answered Lupin confidently. "Like I told you, if that is the case, I could understand what he's going through. I believe Harry is too strong willed and noble to be changed that easily."_

"_Yes, in that we must trust and hope. But be certain that he isn't involved in any activities that might influence him. We need him to stay as he is, even with this tragic occurrence. If you see anything really worrisome in him, let me know at once. Summon Fawkes."_

"_Understood."_

"_You may also begin to teach him Occlumency, as we already agreed with him. Remember to take advantage of these lessons to look further into his mind."_

"_Yes, of course. But sir, should tell him about your suspicions?"_

"_No. Not yet, Remus. I believe we should watch him closely for any signs that prove them true before afflicting him with this knowledge, or worse, the mere possibility. The burden might be too much for him to handle, especially during these dark times."_

"_You are right. I understand." _

"_I expect he'll seek the truth for himself someday. But for now, we must protect him," said Dumbledore with genuine worry. He stepped farther away from Lupin, watching him trustfully. "I must take my leave now. I pray you will succeed. Have a good day, my friend."_

Only a couple of days passed in which Dumbledore watched young Harry after the incident before he had his suspicions. Remus had to admire the man's brilliance. With every moment Harry spoke to him, the suspicions came closer to reality in his mind, which filled Lupin with heartbreak and sadness. As he looked at the weak-looking boy in front of him, he felt an obligation to take care of him, to watch over him. He couldn't avoid the fact that he looked so much like James. It was unbearable to think that he might undergo a trauma similar to the one he, Lupin, experienced so many years ago, when he discovered he wasn't human anymore. Heartbreak, terrible heartbreak.

"Sir?"

He gave Harry another warm but much weaker smile. He hadn't realized he had been completely lost in his thoughts. "I am very sorry, but I do not know. I trust we will soon find out, Harry. For now we must resort to remedies. I believe you posses a vial of Enertentia?"

"Yes..." answered Harry as he took it out. "Well...Henry Cunningham gave it to me. It's supposed to be that..."

Lupin smiled. "Don't you trust your peers, Harry?" he said playfully, and then opened the small lid and smelled the liquid inside. He nodded. "This is indeed Enertentia. Drink one drop each day and you will feel very energized. You should take one now."

He handed back the vial and Harry did what he said. He drank a small drop. The effect was almost instantaneous, completely magical. Harry was amazed that such a small amount of potion could be so strong. His entire body felt completely filled with radiant energy and the numbness he had felt all over was completely gone.

"You know Harry," said Lupin after observing him for a while. "I also went through a time where I also felt unable to eat. I strongly recommend you try, at least, _warm or hot_ foods, even if you still feel no desire at all for them. Drink hot tea and soup, anything warm, and you'll see that it will satisfy you somewhat."

Warm. For some reason this advice made so much sense to Harry that he didn't even question it. After a little more talk and agreeing on a time and day for the first Occumency lesson, Harry went to his next class feeling like he was alive for the first time in a month.

* * *

Much later that day, a boy and girl wearing their Slytherin robes came through the portrait hole into their common room, just as the ancient grandfather clock indicated that it was midnight with its eerie banging tones. They were wrapped in each other's arms as they walked, whispering to each other and trying to be discreet. But as they walked quickly toward their respective dormitories, they were forced to stop. The room was empty except for two boys sitting in the armchairs facing them, and one who happened to be a prefect. The pair looked at each other nervously.

"Oh, look, we have some late night lovers coming in..." sneered the prefect although he showed no sign of real concern.

The girl looked embarrassed and nervous. Her boyfriend made a pleading gesture. "Aww come on, mate...we lost track of time..."

The prefect laughed. "I can see that," he sneered, looking at one and then at the other. As a prefect he was supposed to order detentions for those students found out of their common rooms after eleven o'clock, but he didn't feel like doing anything to them at that moment. He shrugged. "Just go to bed," he said with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Thanks..." said the boy. Immediately they turned and walked away.

"Oh, wow. Who knew you'd be such a _compassionate_ prefect, Draco," said his friend as soon as the couple left.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just don't care..." His tone then became irritated. "Now _what_ in the world is taking them so long, those two fat boys?"

"Maybe they're lying in bed, _eating..."_

Draco laughed. "Yeah...probably...Oh look, it seems we summoned them with our thoughts, Henry."

As he said this, two massive figures were coming down the stairs of their dormitory toward the common room. The two boys sitting in the armchairs quickly stood up.

"Malfoy, sorry it took me a while I -"

"Save the excuses for later, Goyle," snapped Draco. "I have no time to lose. Now both of you be quiet and follow us."

The four of them immediately walked out of the common room in silence, with Draco leading the way. None of them made a sound as they walked through many corridors and climbed the many moving staircases on the heart of the castle. They were almost reaching the seventh floor.

"Sense where Filch is?" whispered Draco to Henry, who was walking beside him.

"He's in the third floor, near the Ravenclaw common room. We're safe."

"Good. I don't want him bothering us."

Their barely audible voices were suddenly drowned by the sound of someone falling down behind them. Immediately they stopped and turned around. They found Crabbe laying on his stomach a few steps down from them.

"Shhh! Quiet!" whispered Henry.

"Crabbe you idiot, get up!" hissed Malfoy. "After six bloody years you still fall on the same step!"

"I'm - I'm sorry..." said Crabbe with embarrassment. Goyle helped him up as Draco and Henry resumed their way up the stairs. "Don't dare make another sound, unless you want that Squib annoying us!" hissed Draco over his shoulder.

"Alright"

"Okay."

Draco sighed and shook his head. "_Idiots"._

A minute later they had reached their destination. Draco was pacing back and forth close to the wall of that corridor, whispering something under his breath with deep concentration. Crabbe and Goyle stood nearby with Henry looking at them.

After a while, he smiled at them. "Alright, tell me...which one of you is the strongest?"

The two boys looked at each other, puzzled, and then spoke at the same time.

"Well I think I am"

"I am..."

They looked stupid and confused. Henry sighed and looked back at Draco. A door had just materialized in the wall in front of the blonde wizard, who now stood still. "Draco," called Henry. "Come here."

Draco was beside him.

"Which one of your two...friends...do you think is stronger?" asked Henry, eyeing both fat boys mischievously.

"_I_ am, Draco. Crabbe's a sissy," said Goyle.

"_What_? I'm not!" cried Crabbe as he punched Goyle on the shoulder. "But why do you ask who's the toughest, I don't get it..."

"Well, Henry, to be honest, I'm not sure" said Draco, ignoring both of them. "Why don't you test them and find out?" He had a dark, twisted smile on his face, which Henry returned.

There was no warning. Henry punched both boys on the stomach at the same time, without any effort whatsoever, but somehow the boys were thrown back several feet and they fell hard on the floor, groaning.

Draco and Henry sniggered. "I'm sorry...there was no other way to test it," said Henry apologetically. "I hope I didn't harm you that much."

After a few seconds, Goyle had managed to get halfway up. "You bastards..." he managed to say, trying to catch his breath. "You bloody bastards..."

Draco and Henry laughed sadistically.

Crabbe was still on the floor on fetal position, groaning and rubbing his stomach. Goyle had gotten up completely, but he was still trying to breathe properly and had a grimace of pain on his face.

"Well, that pretty much solves it," said Henry as he approached Goyle along with Draco. "You were right after all. You _are _the strongest."

Goyle looked like he wanted nothing else but to punch the boys in front of him on their faces. But something held him back. He could have sworn he saw Henry's eyes flash red for a moment.

"You come with me, Goyle," said Draco, amused. He went inside the Room of Requirement with Goyle closely following him like a frightened pet.

Henry now approached the still fallen figure of Crabbe. The boy was still in the same position as before and was still groaning in pain.

"Ohh, come on Crabbe," said Henry with a tone of ridicule. "Can't you take a little punch? Can't you get up?"

The only response he received was another groan. Henry chuckled.

"In that case..."

He stood over the boy and grabbed a handful of his robes. Then he pulled him up without any visible effort, like he was picking up something that was completely weightless. With the other hand he grabbed Crabbe's shoulders and forced him to stand up completely.

He let go and Crabbe fell against the wall, still leaning forward holding on to his stomach and groaning. His eyes remained closed and his face in a grimace. Henry held the boy against the wall to force him to look up at him.

"Listen to me, alright?" said Henry imperiously. "You have to do something important now. Are you listening to me?"

Crabbe nodded. He was still struggling to compose himself.

"You see that column there, on your left?"

Henry pointed and Crabbe looked at that direction. The fat boy then nodded when he spotted the column.

"You have to stand behind there until we get out, and guard the entrance," said Henry very clearly. "You _have to make sure_ no one comes near it, and if this happens-"

He took out what looked like a normal coin and showed it to Crabbe. "You will press this hard in the middle, and it will alert Draco, as he has the other one. Do you understand?"

Again, Crabbe nodded.

"Okay? Send warning, to _Draco_, by pressing, _this coin,_" he said slowly, like if he spoke to a small child or a retarded person, which made Crabbe look at him furiously. "Alright? Can you do that?"

"Yes..." he responded through clenched teeth, glaring at Henry. At last, he was standing up straight.

"Very good!" exclaimed Henry like he was congratulating a small child, and then handed Crabbe the coin.

Henry smiled with amusement once again and then walked away, toward the entrance of the Room of Requirement. But before he entered, he looked back to make sure Crabbe had obeyed his orders. The boy was nervously leaning against the column, with the hand that held the coin placed inside the pocket of his robe.

* * *

"Very well, let's start shall we?"

Henry Cunningham had entered the Room of Requirement.

There was a large, empty space in the middle but all around there was a myriad of magical objects on tables, cauldrons, bottles with all types of exotic ingredients, books, and even caged animals. The room looked like a mixture of all the classrooms in Hogwarts combined with some large store from Knockturn Alley.

Henry stood in the middle of the room and held up his arms with the palms of his hands facing up. Goyle and Draco watched in amazement as he quickly spoke some elaborate incantation and immediately a bright, greenish light appeared between his outstretched arms, first in the size of a coin, and then progressively larger, in the shape of a circle. For a moment, the ground felt like it was shaking and the fire of the torches danced as if a strong wind was hitting them. The light that had formed into a circle grew, and in a matter of seconds, into the size of the entire room. The light then appeared to get absorbed by the walls in every corner, on the floor and on the ceiling.

"Woah..." said Goyle with stupefied admiration. "What _was _that?"

"It's called a _ward_," responded Henry as he approached the other two wizards. "I could be here all night explaining to you its importance, but I won't waste my time. Our friend here _desperately_ needs our help," he said as he looked at Draco. The three of them stood facing each other. "Draco, you told me you've got only five days to achieve the improvement, am I right?"

"Yes."

Goyle looked back and forth between them, confused. "Five days to improve what? Why-"

"Which ones, more or less, have you mastered already?" Henry asked Draco, ignoring Goyle.

"Well, I could say I've mastered most of the Control Ones, the Persuading ones...I'm good at Imperius but as you might have guessed, I can't really practice it that often..."

"Are you talking about Dark Curses?" asked Goyle, but again he was ignored.

"What about Pain?"

"Well, those are the ones I need to work on, which are the majority of them, of course. I really need to work on the Cruciatus. And also-"

"Damn it, if you don't tell me what this is all about, I'm leaving, alright!" Goyle interrupted angrily.

The others finally paid him attention. Yet they smiled at him so darkly he was annoyed but also very scared again.

"I'm sorry, how rude of us," said Henry with a mischievous tone. "Forgive us for not telling you earlier what you're here for. You see, Draco here really needs to improve his skills with some Curses because of a little - _secret_ - mission he has to accomplish, and we need someone he could use them on."

There was a pause. Goyle stared at Henry, trying to process what he was saying. _Someone to use them on? Secret mission?_

"Of course, you don't have to worry, Goyle," explained Draco. "Henry knows _every _curse and counter-curse in existence, so you won't feel pain for _too _long." He smiled cruelly when he saw the look on Goyle's face. "He can heal anything in a minute."

Goyle was backing away almost unconsciously. "You're saying you're going to Curse me on purpose?"

"Yeah. Sorry, but someone's got to do it," said Draco with a shrug, and then he added with a menacing expression. "And that's _you_."

Goyle was shaking his head. He couldn't believe what was going on.

"No way. Are you insane? Draco...why would you do this?" He could do nothing else but back away fearfully. "You haven't said anything to us about a mission...what's going on?" He now looked incredulously at Henry. "And you...who _are_ you, exactly?"

He suddenly felt rooted to the floor, as if an invisible force had paralyzed him. And then he was looking straight into Henry Cunningham's eyes, and felt instantly and completely mesmerized. His mind was suddenly completely blank; he didn't know who he was or where he was. He just heard a soothing, calming voice inside his head.

_You will obey everything we say and you will cooperate, without asking any questions._

Silence. Henry looked back at Draco and the two exchanged looks of satisfaction, then he approached the dazed-looking Goyle.

"Give me your wand," he commanded.

As if in a trance, Goyle handed his wand to the source of the voice, the one that interrupted his blank state of mind. A few more seconds of blessed silence passed. Then the voice inside his head spoke to him again.

_Return to us._

Goyle blinked a couple of times and the room suddenly came back to focus. His mind was frozen and unable to make sense of his surroundings.

"Start with the Fire Curse."

"Alright," said the voice he now recognized as Draco Malfoy's. "_Incendio!"_

After an orange light collapsed against his chest, Goyle could swear he had been thrown into a fiery pit. He fell on the floor and twitched in pain, screaming. Boils were appearing throughout his entire body. The pain was so outstanding it made him snap back into reality. "STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! AGHHH!" he yelled.

"Go ahead and yell. Express yourself," said the amused and laid-back voice of Henry. "With these wards, no one could hear you."

"YOU'RE EVIL! BOTH OF YOU!" yelled the helpless boy between more screams of pain.

"Oh, I'm not evil," said Henry amongst Goyle's screams, in a disturbingly calm tone. "I'm just helping a friend. And Draco's just doing his job, you know?"

The pain finally stopped, and he couldn't move an inch without feeling even worse pain.

"That was excellent, Draco," praised Henry as he approached the fallen, burnt Goyle. "You've pretty much mastered it already. So what the hell were you talking about!" He crouched down next to the victim and moved his hands across his body in circular motions, inches away from the skin, while reciting the incantation inside his mind. Meanwhile he kept talking to Draco like he didn't need to concentrate on what he was doing at all. "I think we could just do a couple more of the Pain ones they use most. Then we need to spend some time with the Aura-drawing, the most important one of all."

"Yes. I still can't manage to draw the life-force of an _elf! _A bloody elf..." replied Draco, who suddenly became very stressed out. He added in a quiet whisper, "...so how could I do it to a Witch or Wizard?"

"Patience, Draco," replied Henry. "Trust my teaching abilities."

"Of course..." Draco was now pacing around the room. "Aunt Bella also insisted I master the Cruciatus now."

"And the Killing Curse? Has it worked for you already?"

"No...only on small animals." Draco groaned. "I'm doomed..."

"Well, if you're so stressed, why don't you stop wasting time whining about it and practice something instead?" said Henry a little irritably. He was now healing Goyle's legs and arms, still non-verbally.

Draco practiced a curse that made blue flames shoot from his wand, using some random junk that was in the corner of the room to burn them with it, and to practice his aim. Meanwhile, Henry kept healing his severely injured friend; he made the circular movements faster and the boils from all the burns disappeared amazingly fast. Less than a minute after this, Goyle was healed.

But as soon as the poor boy tried to get up, cursing Draco and Henry, he was hit with another horrible curse and fell back on the floor. And so the training session progressed; Draco practiced dozens of painful Dark curses on the helpless Goyle, who was then healed by Henry in a matter of minutes only to be tortured again. After Malfoy practiced the Cruciatus, however, the boy was in too much pain even after he got healed, so they gave him a break. He lay on the floor while the other two practiced dueling for a while. Then it was back to being hit with more and more curses.

It was only fifteen minutes until 1 o'clock in the morning when they began to practice Aura-Drawing. Goyle was nearly unconscious.

"This is the most important part of these little meetings, so you better listen closely," said Henry. "I'll explain it to you quickly. As you know, Aura-drawing - the taking of another Witch or Wizard's power and vital life-force - is one of the Darkest and most feared Magical Arts. Why? Because you don't use a wand, and so it's impossible to track down by the Ministry. If it's done the right way, a wizard could end another's life by draining that person of their life force completely. You knew this, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm going to teach you a special technique I discovered. It's impossible to get caught using it. The secret is learning how to draw an Aura while you're _outside_ of your body."

Draco looked surprised. "You mean, like sending your own aura energy double to do it? Instead of going yourself? Like Aura Projection or soul traveling..."

"Yes, it's very simple once you master traveling outside of your body at will. You must master this, _and_ the normal Aura-Drawing for my technique to be successful. I believe you have learned some soul traveling back home?" Draco nodded. "Good. It's that simple; you combine both things."

"I see..." now Malfoy seemed surprised at its simplicity, but he still wondered how exactly did one draw an Aura without a body.

Henry smiled. "That's what I'm going to show you. We shall dedicate our next meetings exclusively on doing this. For now, try to draw the life force from these animals-" he pointed at the caged mammals and reptiles on the corner of the room. "-Until they are dead. Understood? Let's begin."

They spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes on this. Henry watched over Draco as he concentrated as much as he could, holding his hands close to each animal, still inside its cage. Dim light of the color of each animal's aura slowly came out of the creature's body, into the wizard's hand. He was becoming angry when he realized he hadn't actually killed them, until at last he manage to take the life of the last one, a Pygmy Puff, just by drawing its aura. Draco couldn't hold back his glee at his accomplishment.

Henry had nodded at him proudly and said, "Not bad. Soon enough you could move on to bigger animals, then humans."

The session was finally over.

"If you want to succeed, we need do this every night. Make sure both friends of yours will be available every time."

"They _will_ be," said Draco with a smirk. "I'll make sure of that."

Goyle had managed to get up quickly, and, taking advantage of the others' momentary distraction, tried to run out of the room. But in the blink of an eye, Henry had soundlessly appeared right in front of the door. Goyle gasped with horror. "Merlin, how did you-?"

He was unable to speak. Henry's eyes were right in front of his, inches away. He heard a voice.

_Forget everything that happened in here._

Goyle lost balance and fell backwards on the floor. His mind was blank again and he felt completely disoriented. He looked up and saw Draco Malfoy and Henry Cunningham standing next to each other, looking down at him coldly.

"Draco? Wh...What happened? Where are we -"

"Get up, fat boy," said Draco in his usual sneer. "We have to go."

"Oh..." said Goyle as he stood up. "Oww...my back hurts. What happened?"

When he looked up, both boys had already gone through the door. Goyle did the same thing, but he kept wondering why he was feeling aches and pains throughout his entire body.


	3. Revelation

**II - Revelation**

* * *

Two weeks into the first school term, Harry fell off his broom playing Quiddich. To everyone's surprise, he quit the Gryffindor team that day, even if he had been its Captain. His fellow players were confused and very disappointed, some even angry, but he didn't care. He thought they took the sport way too seriously. Trivial things like school competitions meant nothing to him now.

"What has gotten _into_ you, Harry," demanded Ron with indignation, but Harry was wearing his sunglasses as usual and Ron couldn't know that he wasn't looking at him or paying attention. "One little fall made you quit, just like that? You didn't even think about quitting that time the dementor-"

"I know," interrupted Harry with calm indifference. "But I just don't like Quiddich anymore. Is that too hard for you to understand?" This time he looked at his friend. Ron's face was as clueless and confused as ever.

Harry knew Ron could never understand. After two days of anxiety, he still hadn't told anyone what _really_ happened that day that left him completely traumatized.

It was dawn. He had been sitting on the common room reading, waiting until it was time to go to the Quiddich practice. Again he felt the now familiar dread as he put on his Quiddich robes and took his broomstick, and made his way to the field. This wasn't only due to the fact that there would be annoying sunlight, but he would also have to endure "auditions" of new players and probably a lot of very bad flying. He felt strange when he realized that he had completely lost interest in Quiddich, which he always loved so much.

He also forgot to drink the daily dose of Enertentia. The effect of the potion had been so great that he didn't realize his mistake until it was too late.

He was flying low, thankfully, observing the others practicing and joining in the game occasionally. Suddenly he felt extremely drowsy, like if a dementor had sucked out all of his energy. At that moment he had been flying fast, and before he was able to land, his eyes closed as if by their own volition. The next thing he felt was the ground smashing against his body, and then the sensation of rolling and rolling in the ground of the Quiddich field.

Intense embarrassment.

He sat down and signaled to the others that he was fine, when suddenly, something caught all of his attention. He saw that his Quiddich pants had been torn over his knee, which was bleeding considerably. The cut looked fairly deep.

It was very hard for him to describe what he felt at that moment as he looked at his own blood gushing out.

_Blood!_

Maddening. The sensation was like he went mad, because he felt such a powerful attraction to that red liquid that suddenly nothing else mattered and he had forgotten about his own existence. All he wanted was to taste it. But when he leaned forward toward his knee, what happen next astounded him even more.

The cut healed in a matter of seconds, right before his eyes. He saw how the beautiful red liquid went back into his body, before the cut completely closed and disappeared without leaving the smallest mark. For a moment he just stared with his mouth hanging open. And then he reacted by screaming in fear and shock, crawling backwards without realizing what he was doing.

Everyone was staring at him. He didn't even realize people had been approaching him already, and when he screamed they ran to him.

"Harry, are you alright?" someone said to him with intense worry. They helped him get up and asked what happened and whether he got seriously wounded. He didn't respond to any of them. He was in flabbergasted at what he had seen moments before. And he also felt so weak he thought he was going to collapse on the ground again.

"Are you okay mate?" inquired Ron, who reached him first.

"No...I'm not..." Harry answered weakly, still trying to breathe properly after the shock he experienced. "I don't feel well at all."

He left one of the most experienced players in charge of the practice and left toward the castle. He was walking really fast and already knew exactly what he was going to do the moment he would reach it. He was in such a desperate state of mind that he barely heard the taunts a group of Slytherins yelled at him as he brushed past them, disregarding them completely.

As soon as he got his hands on a piece of parchment and a quill he wrote the letter to Dumbledore. It was probably one of the most desperate he had ever written to him. He explained all the strange things that had been bothering him lately and begged for a meeting as soon as he had time. Even as he wrote he knew this meeting wouldn't be soon; Dumbledore hadn't been seen in the castle in days. But he simply didn't know what else to do. Who else could possibly know what was happening to him than the wise Dumbledore? He told Hedwig to send the letter as fast as she could.

He sat back on the chair of the desk and took his dose of Enertentia, instantly regaining his energy. Then he had an idea. He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't crazy and that what he had seen was real. He cleaned the tip of the quill with his robe and ran the sharp point through a part of his arm. Sure enough, the blood came out of the cut, but before he could even realize the attraction he felt for the blood, the liquid seemed to be "sucked" back into his body and the cut had healed completely in a couple of seconds. He stared at the place he had made the cut in astonishment.

Harry was brought back to the present, away from his musings, when a small wizard standing next to him called his name. Colin Creevy. The boy gave him a letter and said nervously that it was from Dumbledore. Harry snatched it from his hands.

_At last! _

"Thanks, Colin!" Harry quickly stood up and tore open the letter while he walked away from the rest of the students gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room. To his delight, the man at last agreed to meet with him in private in his office that afternoon. He had just returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

The moment he entered the Headmaster's office it was an intense deja-vu of all the occasions he's been told all kinds of horrible truths about himself or his destiny. The mere sight of the place filled him with a feeling of foreboding and the atmosphere always made him tense.

Again he explained to Dumbledore all the strange things he wrote about on the letter, of all the changes he was experiencing, and of the incident in the Quiddich Field. The old man listened patiently in his typical calm, controlled manner, his hands entwined on top of his desk. Harry knew he had an answer to all of this, and that he wouldn't like what the old man would say at all. But after waiting so long to finally speak to the Dumbledore, Harry didn't care.

"Sir, what is happening to me?" whispered Harry desperately, eyes pleading Dumbledore to get it over with.

_"So young Harry seeks the knowledge so soon," _thought Dumbledore. "_And again it is I who reveals his burden."_

The old man was silent for a while, and he was studying the young wizard in a calculating manner, but with a very sad expression on his ancient face. When he didn't answer quickly, Harry opened his mouth, but then he finally spoke:

"I believe now, more than ever...that you have been turned into a vampire."

Harry stared at the old man like if he didn't hear what he just said. He knew what he said, and he understood it, and deep down inside he had even suspected it to be the explanation to everything, but his brain simply couldn't process it.

"A what?"

"A vampire, Harry," repeated Dumbledore as he stood from his desk and walked toward Harry. "A nosferatu, an immortal..."

"Immortal?" The young wizard couldn't possibly grasp it. Even within the magical world, the existance of such beings was still questionable. Only in some obscure ancient books was there any literature at all about the mysterious beings.

Dumbledore was standing right next to Harry now, studying him closely.

"The gleam in your eyes, the tone of your skin...even if both are ever so subtle...it is as I feared and suspected ever since what happened that day in Diagon Alley," said the old man with evident sadness. "No mortal could have survived that attack, that terrible curse. And then you vanished, and appeared somewhere else, unscathed. It is the only logical explanation, when you think of this..."

"But sir...I can't be a _vampire_..." argued Harry, but then he trailed off as he realized he sounded exactly how he did when he was eleven years old and Hagrid had told him he was a wizard. Then that blurry memory came back to him again, of him being carried away by that angelic being the day he was attacked, and then it saving his life, saying the most beautiful thing to him, 'No more pain'.

"It happened that very day in Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore with confidence. "The being you vaguely remember must have carried you away and turned you into a vampire. And then it made you forget what happened. Vampires have always been extremely secretive. That is why so little is known of their existence."

Wait, how did he know what he had remembered? Oh, right. Dumbledore could read minds. Harry had forgotten. And yet he always seemed like he just knew everything. The old wizard was now back in his seat behind the desk, his hands entwined like before, and he continued to stare at the shocked and horror-struck Harry.

"The changes you have noticed are all part of your transformation, which is, opposite of what most people think, a gradual one," explained Dumbledore in his usual knowledgeable tone. "They will intensify with time. For this reason you have an aversion for the sun, cannot eat food without feeling sick, and feel attraction and craving for blood. Contrary to what most people believe, it isn't necessary for you to sleep in a coffin during the day at all. Also, a vampire has an ability to heal instantly from wounds, like you saw that day in the Quiddich field. I believe the vampire that made you must have given you great power, because fledglings like yourself rarely display the changes so quickly..."

Dumbledore paused for a moment and appeared to be analyzing something, his face in a slight frown, but then he continued as if he had never stopped. "Vampires are also unaffected by most curses. But probably the most obvious sign is...have you already noticed your fangs?"

It just sounded so ridiculous. But Harry felt them. They were very small, but very sharp. Before this moment he would have never thought about them that way.

_A vampire's fangs_.

"Yes, discreet," considered Dumbledore. "Most wouldn't notice them. They grow longer right before you feed, I believe."

Harry realized how annoying it was to have people read his mind like that, so effortlessly. How exactly did he know such details of vampiric behavior?

"I have encountered vampires before," Dumbledore explained. "But I must say that to my knowledge, none of them have been wizards as well. You will gain many new powers, I expect. Only time will tell what will happen when the powers of the undead combine with the magical powers of a wizard."

_Undead. _The word sounded so surreal. He had literally died a month ago, and now he was something else, something inhuman. He shivered when he thought about it.

"Harry, what is most _essential_ is that you learn to control the urges you already feel, no matter how strong they are." Dumbledore's face was very serious when he said it, looking into his student's eyes.

Harry felt very uncomfortable all of the sudden, and his sadness got much worse. He was now a threat even to those he cared about, to top it all off...

"The urges you feel will get stronger soon, from now on you must learn to subdue them, to prevent anything unfortunate from happening," explained Dumbledore. "The sickness you feel now, the weakness, is because you haven't drank blood once since your turning."

"Blood...No, I won't drink blood..." The mere thought of it was too much. Him, Harry Potter, drinking blood?

"You must, Harry, for your own good," argued Dumbledore, again surprising Harry. "Not doing so could result in a tragedy, as the thirst might get to a point that you will attack without any self-control. And you do _not _need to hurt humans to survive, Harry. You can choose to only drink animal blood."

This brought him a very unpleasant image of him sucking blood out of chickens, like in some muggle vampire film. The complete and utter horror he felt was too much. He couldn't speak.

"This is very unfortunate, but nothing can prevent it now. But do not despair or allow this to take hold of your life, Harry," said Dumbledore in a hopeful tone, even though his face was still sad. "We will help you as much as we possibly can, and find any means possible to lessen this affliction. There are many potions to subdue the thirst for blood, which combined with the consumption of animal blood can be enough for you to subsist without feeling the weakness and illness you feel now. You may continue using the energizing potion as well. I am sure that all of this combined can help you a lot..."

"Sir, who are 'we'? Who else knows about this?"

"The only ones who know at this moment are here in this office; you and I. But I believe some trusted helpers are necessary," answered Dumbledore. "Professor Lupin will be more than willing to help and take care of you. As you know, he is afflicted with something very similar. And also our faithful Hagrid, who shall provide you with the animal blood in secret, so that your thirst will not cloud your mind and make you ill."

"Blood..." whispered Harry with distress. He still couldn't accept it. He just couldn't.

"Harry...don't let this bring you down." Dumbledore's tone was now urgent. "Keep this in your mind at all times. Both vampirism and lycanthropy _can _be controlled, mostly with the aid of potions and remedies. But unlike lycanthropy, vampirism can also be controlled _without_ the aid of potions. Do you know why?"

Harry tried to remember what he had learned in all of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but his brain was too clouded with misery to answer the question. He also felt very pessimistic.

"Werewolves cannot control their actions after their transformation in the full moon," Dumbledore reminded Harry. "A strong-willed vampire _can_ control him or herself at all times unless there is starvation. If you do as I say, and you remain strong-willed, you do not need to become a dangerous being, Harry. You do not need to kill or hurt any person throughout your existence. The key is the strength of your mind."

This lessened the heaviness he had been feeling in his chest and gave him a little bit of hope. So not all was necessarily lost. He could still be decent...

"You can deal with your own existence as long as you avoid self-loathing. Never hate what you are, Harry," mused Dumbledore, looking as wise as ever. "Think about your purpose in this world and your destiny. Think about all the good you might bring to this world, that you would not have been able to bring unless you had become what you are."

Even in that moment, these words were engraved in his soul forever. He would never, never forget them. It was true; if he had died that day, he wouldn't be here to protect his friends or fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He was still the "Chosen One", even if he had to fulfill his destiny being a blood-drinking creature of the night.

Dumbledore observed him closely. "Only if you think like this will you bear your own existence, and avoid madness," he insisted.

Harry nodded, still numb. He looked at the old wizard with admiration and watched him take a small glass vial out of his robe and give it to Harry. It was a rare potion he said would subdue his thirst significantly, which along with the animal blood, would surely improve his condition.

"I'm very sorry Harry but I must leave now for a meeting. What I am about to say is very, very important; You must keep this a _secret_. You do not want this information to reach the ear of your enemies..."

Harry immediately thought about Voldemort. _Power the Dark Lord knows not..._

"...Also, many will misunderstand and it is best to avoid other unpleasant situations. Vampires are one of the most misunderstood creatures, and you _will_ be feared. But if you really need to tell your best friends - who must swear secrecy, of course - please wait until you have learned to accept this. It will not be easy for you, and dealing with a friend's misunderstanding might be too much to bear."

Harry nodded slowly, although he wasn't entirely sure he was going to follow that advice. He didn't know if he could deal with the loneliness.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, the one who was still like a grandson to him. "Tomorrow, professor Lupin will approach you with help. You may return to your House, Harry. Please remember what I told you about accepting who and what you are. Good night."

* * *

Harry couldn't bear it. Every minute was like an hour as he waited for the common room to finally be empty.

The now familiar sensation of shock after some horrible truth had been revealed to him was finally subsiding. Now he was completely sure that he had been turned into a vampire that day; it explained everything perfectly. The horror of that truth was finally real to him, very real. Now he didn't know what was actually worse, not knowing what was happening to him, or knowing _this._ He was a vampire. Every time this thought came to his head, and it kept repeating itself, he felt an almost literal pain in his chest.

But this time he wasn't going to let the burden stay bottle up inside, like he did with the knowledge of the prophecy. He had suffered greatly at that time for not telling anyone about it until many weeks later. Right now, every minute that passed was excruciating.

To hell with what Dumbledore advised him to do. He was going to tell his best friend, someone who cared for him more than anyone else. He desperately needed that comfort now more than ever.

After what seemed to Harry like long hours, the only ones left in the Common Room were the "Trio" - him, Hermione, and Ron.

_Leave already, Ron. Come on...feel sleepy... _

Harry was pleasantly surprised when, a few seconds after thinking this, the red haired wizard yawned loudly and stood up, stretching.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Harry didn't waste a moment. As soon as Ron was well out of sight, going up the stairs to the dormitory, he stood and moved quickly to the couch were Hermione was and sat right beside her.

"What's up?"

"I need to talk to you right now, about what Dumbledore told me."

The desperate look on his face must have alarmed her. She sat up close to him, eyes full of concern like always. "What is it?"

Harry sighed. "I'll get straight to the point. That day in Diagon Alley..." he said sadly, looking into her eyes. "Remember what I mentioned to you the other day, of me remembering being carried away by someone, or something?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, Dumbledore made it clear to me that - the thing that took me, it was a vampire. And that it turned me into one as well."

Hermione sighed and looked deeply pained at this knowledge, like she fully understood. It shocked him that she didn't react with disbelief at all, but then again, Hermione always was a extraordinary witch. She probably had read all about vampires so she must have a pretty good idea of the situation.

"Oh, Harry...I'm so, so sorry..."

"I died that day." Harry said, suddenly realizing the true horror of it. "I am...undead. I can't really grasp it yet, you know? But it explains everything. My sudden hate for the sun, the strange abilities...the hunger and weakness..."

"Yes, yes...it's the only logical explanation. The one who made you used his powers to make you forget."

"Exactly."

There was a silent pause, where they merely looked at each other's sad faces. They didn't need any words to express to each other what they felt at that moment.

"I feel so weak and miserable, Hermione...I feel sick."

"I know, and that's because you haven't fed." She said, more worried than ever now. "And you need to. You _need _to feed."

"No," snapped Harry stubbornly. "I will not drink blood. I will not."

His distress must have made him completely forget about the potion Dumbledore had given him.

"Oh, Harry, there's nothing you can do now!" argued Hermione. "You are in the early stages of the transformation, it's essential that you drink at least a couple of drops..."

Harry kept shaking his head. "I can't bear the thought of doing that...I just can't."

"But you must."

"I won't."

She knew he was being his typical stubborn self, but she wasn't going to give up this time. She stood up, approached her school bag, and took out a new and unused quill. Then she went back and sat closer to Harry.

"Before you argue with me and you refuse, let me tell you this, Harry. This will be a favor I'm asking of you, for _me_."

He already knew what she was going to ask and felt immediate dread. He got nervous and shook his head. "No...Hermione, it don't do it -"

"For Merlin's sake, please listen to me!" Now Hermione was the desperate one, tears forming in her eyes. "I beg you to listen to me! I've wanted to find a way to help you for so long now, I've suffered because of this, understand?" Her voice quivered slightly with emotion. Harry looked away as sadness threatened to overwhelm him as well. "I am _begging_ you. Don't do this to yourself. Drink from me, just a little bit. You will feel better, loads better -"

"I can't do that..."

"Just a few drops will end this misery, I swear. I am offering it to you, you're _not_ going to hurt me!" insisted Hermione.

Harry sighed and again shook his head. The thought was monstrous and horrible. Feeding off his best friend Hermione? Drinking her blood? He closed his eyes and rubbed them for a moment, worried that tears were going to come out of them soon, many of them, taking out all the tension that had built up inside him for so long.

And then something unexpected caught all of his attention.

A smell. So delicious, it clouded all of his other senses and made him forget for a second what was going on. He looked at where the smell was coming from and gaped at what he saw.

Blood.

There was fresh blood on Hermione's neck. Her eyes were filled with tears. She held the quill with one hand and with the other she held back her bushy brown hair, away from the newly made, small cut she had on her neck.

"Please, Harry," she begged quietly.

He was paralyzed. He wanted to jump up, and run away from that couch. But another, much stronger part of him made him stay right where he was, staring at the blood. It was much stronger than the attraction he felt that day in the Quiddich field.

Hermione got much closer to him, and then with an instinct he didn't know he had, his hands moved toward her, holding her closer by her waist. He felt like someone had pushed a switch that all of the sudden changed who he was.

She was way too close, and she was pulling him even closer with her arm, closer to her bleeding neck. "Drink. Just drink," she pleaded.

It was scary, how it happened. The hunger took over him and it was like he transformed into someone - something - else. He raised one of his hands and held the side of her neck that was woundless as his head quickly moved toward the wound. His mouth covered the bleeding side of her neck.

The second her blood touched his lips, it was ecstasy. And it intensified even more when it touched his tongue. He moaned without being able to control himself and, again with an instinct he hadn't known, opened his mouth wider and buried his two sharp - and longer - fangs into her flesh.

She gasped and got tense, but he was too drawn into it to stop. His arm tightened around her waist as he sucked her blood for the first time, drawing it out of her in one large gulp. She moaned when he did this, and ran her hand on the back of his neck, through his untidy hair.

For Harry, the experience couldn't be fully explained by words. It felt as if they had gotten fused together as he drank, like they had become one. In his ears he could clearly hear her heartbeat as it combined with the rhythm of his own, undead heart. The pleasure and satisfaction he felt at that moment was unimaginable, like he'd never feel hungry, thirsty or weak again. Everything Hermione knew was shoved into his mind as he drank from her. In a matter of seconds, her memories and knowledge were now his, and he felt like he then knew all there was to know about her, all that she herself knew. It was the most intimate experience he's ever had. And he couldn't imagine, at that moment, how it could ever be a bad thing to do. He was possessed and just kept doing everything else instinctively. He licked the blood around the wound, and every time he sucked the blood from it, she breathed in and give little moans that she then stopped self-consciously.

Being aware of this finally caused him to come back to his senses, which were up until that moment clouded by the overwhelming experience. The second he was "normal" again, he sensed that they weren't alone in that room, and that it was too late to avoid being seen. Before he had even drawn away and properly ended the experience, a familiar and very upset voice interrupted them very abruptly, like a slap in the face.

"What the _hell_?"

Ron Weasley was standing a few feet away from the couch, his mouth open with complete shock. But when Harry actually looked at him, he leapt back and shrieked with fear. Harry had blood on his lips, which he hastily wiped away. But it was no use, the redhead had seen what happened and was paralyzed. Hermione wiped her wound as well and moved her hair to cover it, but again, it was useless.

"Ron..." she cried, clearly horrified. "It's not what you think - "

"_WHAT_ is it, then? I saw - dear Merlin - " Ron apparently couldn't even look at them so he turned around without really knowing what he was doing, in the midst of intense anger, confusion, fear, shock - he felt like he was going to explode. He had never felt so many things at the same time. "What the hell did I just see, huh, just WHAT in the hell -" he gave another shriek when he looked back at them and saw that Harry was tentatively approaching him.

Harry couldn't believe this was happening to him - but then again - things like this could _only _happen to him. His first golden experience drinking blood, interrupted in the worst possible way. He was making a gesture with his hands to beg his friend to calm down. The only thing he could say at that moment was, "Stop yelling, you'll wake everyone up...Calm down -"

"_Calm down?_" cried Ron, who was looking at Harry with a mixture of fear, revulsion and anger. "How am I supposed to calm down after what I just saw!"

"You _need _to, so I can explain..."

Ron was backing away from his friend shaking his head, still shocked beyond belief. Hermione was now approaching him too, but he seemed like he wanted nothing to do with them at that moment.

"Ron..." Hermione pleaded. "You couldn't have known in a worse way than this -"

"Known _what_, exactly?" he cried with disbelief. "That you were - Oh Merlin!" He was unable to accept the idea of what he saw. As he backed further away, he was knocked down into the armchair that was right behind him. His hands got to his forehead and he kept shaking his head, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

Harry closed his eyes. He was also feeling so many things at that moment, shock, sadness, embarrassment, dread, and even anger. His plan was to tell Ron about it next, the _right_ way. And then _this_ happens, and the situation couldn't be worse. He knew Ron fancied Hermione. And then he finds out _this_ way about what Harry was? Caught in the act just like that?

Harry gazed miserably at Hermione and whispered, "So has it has to be like this..."

"What has to be like this, exactly?" said Ron in strained voice, still not looking at them. Harry sat down on the table nearby, and Hermione stood next to Harry, still horror-struck.

With a sigh Harry struggled to begin explaining. He didn't know what were the right things to say to make this any better.

"Before you go jump to the wrong conclusion, Hermione and I are _just friends._" Harry began, and when Ron didn't reply - or was unable to reply - he continued. "I was going to tell you as well about the truth, of what happened that day in Diagon Alley, the _right way. _I had told Hermione already, after you left moments ago, and she begged to do me the favor - you see, that day..." He choked as he spoke all of the sudden. He was still struggling to accept what he was going to say next. He tried to disperse the pain in his chest with a deep sigh.

"...You see," Harry continued. "I got turned into a vampire, Ron. That day, I died...and was brought back to life, but as the undead...the vampire that made me erased what happened from my memory..."

Harry's voice slowly died away across the room. The only sound that could be heard for a few moments was the wind coming in through a window in some far corner of the common room. The whole time Harry spoke, he thought Ron wasn't hearing him at all. His face was facing up but his eyes were unfocused, like he had been thinking about something else that still horrified him. When Harry finished, however, Ron's expression changed momentarily to one of intense sadness as he looked up at his friend again.

"Turned into a vampire..." Ron whispered, as if trying to comprehend but wasn't able to.

"Yes..." whispered back Harry, his face a mask of absolute misery. He wasn't even aware that as he spoke tears were accumulating in his eyes. In that moment, he felt something warm fall down his cheek. He saw Ron's eyes widen and he heard him gasp. He couldn't understand why he had become so terrified again at what he saw.

"Dear Merlin..." said Ron, his tone changing back to the previous incredulous, fearful one. He rose from the armchair and started to back away slowly, looking at Harry like he was the most repulsive, horrifying thing he ever saw. "What kind of freak are you?"

_Freak._ The word hurt him so deeply in a way no one could ever understand. Freak was what the Dursleys called him all his life. Freak was what he was called when people found out he spoke Parseltongue. Freak was what he was called throughout the entire previous year because of his visions and for collapsing from pain in his scar. That moment seemed to freeze in time, as he realized that he was now more than ever, a freak.

"Ron, how dare you!" cried Hermione angrily. More tears flowed down Harry's cheeks. He couldn't form an answer to such a hurtful insult. After he wiped them away with his hand he realized what exactly had frightened Ron so much; Blood tears. Blood was what had flowed out of his eyes in the form of tears, which must have looked striking on his pale skin.

The red head felt he had nothing else to resort to, but anger. All of the sudden, he snapped. "You're both sick! I heard you moaning like a whore and I know you liked whatever creepy thing he was doing to you, alright! I saw and heard it all!" Hermione gasped and then her mouth fell open in disbelief and embarrassment.

"You bastard! How can you say those things!" yelled Hermione before she could stop herself. "You're a terrible friend!"

"_I'm _a terrible friend?" screamed Ron. "You're the ones who were shagging around, keeping secrets from me -"

"We weren't shagging and we _weren't _keeping anything!" insisted Hermione. "He just told me about it, you_ idiot_!"

"Well I don't care anymore! You can go back to fooling around you who-"

In a split second Harry completely changed. He snapped out of his shock with the incredibly powerful rage he felt that very second. With a speed he didn't know he possessed, he moved toward Ron and grabbed him by the throat, preventing him from finishing the sentence.

"DON'T YOU DARE INSULT HER AGAIN!" yelled Harry with a voice so frightening he couldn't believe it was his.

Hermione gasped and ran toward them. "Harry, no!"

Ron was choking on Harry's grip as he tried in vain to free himself. He was further horrified when he felt the other's strength and heard the vampire voice. He was even more terrified when he saw the fangs and the eyes, which he swore had flashed red. "How _dare_ you insult her!" Harry now said in a fierce whisper that still sounded very dangerous. His face was like a devil's, full of plain and blind rage. Hermione was desperately trying to pull the boys apart, to make Harry let go, but it was useless. She cried and cried, begging him to stop.

After a few more seconds, Harry finally let him go.

Ron fell on the floor and immediately gasped for air and choked like he had been underwater for minutes. Harry turned and walked away, attempting to subdue the rage that had possessed him. He quickly regretted not having controlled it.

Hermione tried to help Ron up but the boy backed away from her, glaring at her, and stood up by himself, still touching his throat. To Harry's horror, he realized that they were being watched. He looked toward the stairs and saw a couple of students looking down into the common room, staring at them with amazement.

"Nothing to see here!" Hermione snapped at them, waving her hands dismissively. "The fight is over, alright! Just go to bed!"

Thankfully, the students did what she said and slowly went back to their dormitories, whispering to each other.

Ron gave the pair one last furious glare and walked away toward the stairs.

"Don't dare tell anyone!" threatened Harry, still trying to breathe normally again.

"Like they would believe me."

Ron was finally gone. The relief Harry felt at this was wonderful, even thought he was still upset. He was emotionally drained at that point. He sat back down on another couch that was nearest to him. He closed his eyes and simply tried to clear his mind, if that was even possible for him. A moment later, Hermione sat next to him.

"That was just terrible..." he heard her whisper. When he looked at her he saw how disturbed she was.

"It was...but it's over now. He's always been an immature prat like this. How else could we expect him to react?"

At this Hermione gave a small chuckle, her face lighting up with a little smile. "Yeah...you're right. We can't do anything about it now..."

For a moment he simply looked at her in silence as she stared into empty space, lost in her thoughts. He thought about how much he appreciated her, his best friend and confidant, and how much worse this situation would be without her. When she looked back at him, he remembered something else that was worrying him.

"Hey...I'm sorry if I hurt you..." whispered Harry with an apologetic expression. "For a moment there I couldn't control it - I hope it wasn't too painful..."

"No, no...you didn't, I..." Hermione looked away again and Harry noticed she was blushing. "...I really liked it, actually..." She laughed a little, quietly and nervously.

He could almost hear her moans again, repeating from his recent memory. He must have blushed as well.

"That's good," Harry replied with a sly smile. They both laughed softly and some of the tension was released. As a few moments of silence passed, they both felt that they were feeling much better. But then Harry looked at the clock and saw how incredibly late it was. For Hermione, that is. Time didn't matter to him anymore.

"Hermione, you should go to bed. You're going to hate me when you wake up feeling exhausted in the morning."

She chuckled a bit and smiled. "No, _that _will never happen." She kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "Good night then. Remember to drink your potion."

"I will. Good night."

He watched her as she left. He closed his eyes and later on, sensed the moment she had fallen asleep. He pretended to do the same and he tried to banish all miserable thoughts from his head if only for a minute. And then, finally, something that had been on the back of his mind had surfaced, and immediately he felt guilt. Perhaps, this whole situation wouldn't have happened if he had drank the potion Dumbledore gave him...


	4. The First Kill

**III - The First Kill**

* * *

It was very dark in the large yard of Riddle Manor. The trees were sinister looking and leave-less, mere shadows against the dark blue sky. A black cat was sitting in the middle of the yard, in a spot where there were no trees, as if waiting for something or someone.

All of the sudden, it started to get really windy. The sky got covered in a matter of moments with thick clouds and there was the sound of thunder. The cat looked up at the sky and meowed, just as several strange shadows appeared in the sky; they looked like tornadoes coming from the within the clouds themselves as they approached the ground.

When they made contact with the earth, silhouettes of humans in black hooded robes and white skull masks appeared among swirls of strong wind, materializing as if they came from thin air. Two came down at the same time first. Then came three, four, and even more kept appearing. The cat ran across the silhouettes as fast as it could, unnoticed.

As soon as they stepped on the ground, they started walking toward the house automatically, as if they were programmed to do so. They went in a line formation toward the left corner of the house, and crowded around a part of the wall that appeared to be normal.

The first one that arrived, whose silhouette was that of a woman, stood right in front of the wall and took out her wand. She traced the shape of a doorway right before her, clockwise, with her wand. As she did so, a bright white light marked what she had traced. She then stepped into the wall and disappeared behind it, momentarily causing the wall to have waves as if it had turned to liquid. One by one, the others followed her. After they all entered the wall, the light disappeared completely and it looked exactly as it did before.

They walked down ancient looking stone stairs. The hall in front of them was wide and lit with torches that hung on the walls. On each of its sides were many doorways to other corridors, entrances and rooms. It was like part of a luxurious castle, but underground. It was impossible that such a huge underground place could fit under the mansion that stood above it if it wasn't for very powerful magic.

The group of dark hooded figures entered one of the first doors to the left, to their usual meeting place.

"Master!" cried the first one with emotion as she pulled down her hood, which caused her Death Eater's mask to disappear. She went near the tall, thin figure that was standing in the middle of the fire-lit common room. It would have impressed anyone to see how the woman fearlessly approached that unnatural looking thing with a snake-like face and bright red eyes.

"Good evening," whispered the thing as the woman kneeled before it and kissed the hem of its robe. "At last you've arrived, my children. I sense you've brought me success."

"We have, my Lord," answered Bellatrix Lestrange as she straightened up, her eyes shining with a fanatical glow. The Dark Lord held her for a moment as they embraced and she kissed his cheek. "Before they arrived we killed twenty muggles - painfully," she added with a sadistic smile. "We also killed two Aurors. None of us were harmed or got caught."

"Excellent," said Lord Voldemort, and the woman could not be more excited to see her master express satisfaction. She stood beside him as the others greeted their Lord, one by one as they approached. When they were in front of him they also pulled down theirs hoods to reveal their real faces to their master, and then kissed the hem of his robes. After they did this they walked away from their master and proceeded to greet each other.

The men greeted each other with respectful, firm handshakes, slightly bowing their heads. They gave the only woman present, Bellatrix, a kiss on each cheek as they greeted her, as they should according to pureblood etiquette. They smiled at each other as they did so in a way anyone would when greeting a close family member. Suddenly the room was filled with the their soft voices as they spoke to each other in a casual but still formal tone, like one would during a fancy ceremony. It was evident this was due to the presence of their Master in the room.

They all felt incredible relief to see him pleased, even if he didn't smile. "You have done well," he declared, as he held up his arms in a welcoming gesture. "And of course, your Lord always awards those who please him, which will come very soon. But for now - _Wormtail!" _he called out. Immediately a small, rat-like man walked toward his master and replied with a shaky voice, "Y-yes, Master?"

"Bring my dear guests some wine at once." He ordered.

"Of course my Lord!"

"Please," he said in a pleasant tone as he turned to his followers. "Sit down and make yourselves comfortable." What must have been a genuinely pleasant smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face, as he made a gesture toward all the armchairs that had suddenly appeared in the room, making it look like a common room, all of them facing toward the center where there was an empty space and small tables were placed between them. The Death Eaters sat together and resumed their conversations, expressing their great relief and satisfaction. Wormtail went to each table and waved his wand; a bottle of very expensive wine and already filled wine glasses appeared on each one. The groups of Death Eaters drank their wine and conversed and gave toasts. The Lestranges sat on the "privileged" table, with the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," Bellatrix said reverently, almost affectionately. "My nephew has achieved much progress, in such a short time. He will not disappoint you. I really think he's naturally gifted, as I have seen for myself he already knows the Cruciatus."

"Does he?" asked Voldemort quietly. He was observing his youngest follower yet, who sat at a nearby table with Snape and Nott. Voldemort studied his mind. Indeed he could sense much achievement and satisfaction, which made him even more willing to test him. After all, he did entrust the boy with some of his most important missions yet, and he was not going to tolerate failure. "We shall see Draco's ability very soon, Bella, right here in front of our eyes. Now will be his only chance to prove himself worthy to me, and to my faithful, most trusted Death Eaters."

Moments later, there was complete silence because the Dark Lord was standing in the middle of the room. His followers all paid close attention and had looks of anticipation.

"As you all know, due to the efforts of my most faithful I have come much closer to my goal of Eternal Life," boasted Lord Voldemort. "In each of the ceremonies, my already great power has increased even more. At last we are coming closer to imposing Great Slytherin's ideal on this world. And now, the crucial task of continuing this progress lies with our newest and youngest member, who joins us here tonight," he gazed at Draco Malfoy. Everyone had their eyes on the young wizard as he nodded respectfully in acknowledgement, trying to hide his nervousness as much a he could. "Tonight I shall formally present our _late second_ in command's -" The Dark Lord's face became increasingly darker "- only son, Draco, to all of you and he shall prove to us his power, and worthiness for carrying out my bidding at such a young age. _Draco."_

"Yes," responded Draco attentively and he quickly stood from his chair.

Voldemort smiled, which made him look even more devilish. "Prove yourself to us, come here and stand beside me."

Draco obeyed and the people in the room whispered to each other. "Next to the Dark Lord, what an honor," one of them said with great admiration. Draco took a deep, silent breath and tried with all his mind power to look calm. He stood next to Voldemort, who was still looking at the people in the room.

"You see, tonight our young Draco will not only try to be _formally_ considered a Death Eater, but he will also provide us with some entertainment for our little gathering." Voldemort gazed at the at the young wizard beside him expectantly. "That means you must have _fun_ with it, Draco, make _us_ have fun with it!" The Dark Lord's tone was playful and his smile couldn't be more horrible.

The people in the room laughed sinisterly, clearly anticipating what was to come next.

"Crabbe! Goyle!" commanded Voldemort with another hand gesture, switching back to his fearsome Dark Lord persona. He moved back toward his table and stood in front of it to have the best view of the show, just as the two Death Eaters entered the room.

Draco knew what was coming so he took another deep breath, and squeezed his wand from inside his robes. Before him Crabbe and Goyle (fathers) were holding an exquisitely young and beautiful muggle girl, with light brown hair and gray eyes. She was beyond horrified and she looked all around her, whimpering and shaking.

Voldemort's eyes were like two red lights. "Show us your power, Draco. Show us the Curses," he said imperiously. Draco obeyed immediately and took out his wand and pointed it at the helpless girl.

"Curses?" the girl cried unexpectedly, her voice shaking madly. Everyone laughed out loud; high, cold laughs just like Voldemort's, which stood out from all of the others because of its inhuman timbre.

"Yes, my sweet. But do not worry, Draco will get this over with quickly, won't you Draco?" he said in a deceivingly kind tone, and the Death Eater's laughs got louder.

She looked back helplessly at Draco and screamed, "Please!" She tried to fight back but it was no use, she couldn't move with Crabbe and Goyle holding her tightly.

Draco decided not to hesitate and just get it over with. "_Imperio!"_ he cried.

The girl's eyes widened and her mouth went shut as soon as she was hit with the beam of light from Draco's wand. She had a dazed expression on her face as she fell into the blank state of mind, awaiting the soundless voice from the wizard that was going to command her actions. Crabbe and Goyle finally let her go and went to join the rest of the Death Eater audience. Draco thought quickly about what he should make her do. Voldemort's intimidating voice resounded inside his head, _make us have fun with it._

He looked around and the idea came to him immediately; all of them had sick expressions on their faces, but some were looking at the girl in some of the most perverted ways. He knew some of them - he concealed his mind as much as he could as he thought about it - were sick bastards who enjoyed raping some of their victims before killing them, so he would take advantage of this to please all of those vile and twisted wizards who were watching him closely. One of the perverts was - disturbing as it was - Nott, his friend's father. He was the same age as Draco's own father but he loved young pretty girls, and he was looking at the poor girl with the hungriest expression on his cruel face. Draco smirked.

_Turn around. Look alluring and caress yourself._

The girl obeyed. She turned around to face the spectators with the most seductive look in her face. She let her hair loose and caressed her hair, then her chest, breasts, and stomach, twisting her mouth into a smirk. The people in the room laughed with delight, and some of the men made sick comments to each other. By the time her hands were reaching down below...

_Look seductively at Nott and then approach him._

He concentrated very hard on who Nott was, looking at him, and soon she did as he commanded, as precisely as a robot. Nott was smiling and looking at her with desire, and when she began to approach him, he looked at Draco with an expression that showed surprise but was also grateful. _Thanks for sending me the girl_, was what he seemed to say. The Dark Lord seemed pleased all the while at the spectacle, apparently not expecting young Malfoy to come up with this type of "entertainment".

_Kiss him._

The girl was standing right in front of Nott, who looked up at her wetting his lips, almost like he knew what was coming. She gave him a steamy smile, one she would give to someone she desired more than anything. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, sitting on his lap. Everyone laughed and laughed, except Snape, who was sitting on the same table and was looking away and back at the two people next to him with a mixture of embarrassment and surprise. Apparently, he also didn't expect Draco to do this, even if he was used to this type of Death Eater behavior after many years of service. Draco laughed along with the others, but specifically at the look on Snape's face. The girl kept kissing Nott passionately, running her hands though his hair, for a few more moments. When she stood up, he looked like he was going to grab her by the arm and refuse to let her go, but after one look at the Dark Lord, he didn't.

_Ok. Now it's time to change the type of entertainment, _Draco thought to himself. Then he gave her the next command.

The girl took Nott's empty wine glass and broke it with the table. She took a large piece of the broken glass and walked toward the middle of the room where she was before.

The Dark Lord smiled and Draco somehow heard his voice from inside his own head, which suddenly frightened him.

_Bring on the pain, Draco._

The young wizard almost gasped as he looked up at the Dark Lord. He immediately felt pressure when he realized what had been the hidden message behind what he had been told; he had to be especially cruel in torturing and killing her, he had to impress the Dark Lord.

_So much pressure_...

But he was very determined to do his best. He commanded her next actions.

The girl lifted the sharpest edge of the glass and buried it in one of her eyes, and immediately she screamed. The Death Eaters cheered and laughed wickedly again, like they did during the rest of the spectacle. She took her eye out of the socket using the sharp glass, screaming in agony all the while, and did the same thing with the other eye. There was nothing she could do to prevent her self-mutilation. She placed both of her eyes on the floor beside her, one next to the other, and proceeded to run the sharp glass all over her face, leaving deep cuts with blood gushing out, then through her arms and legs; throughout her entire body. She stabbed her private parts and every other inch of her body.

At that moment, that place was hell. Voldemort was the Devil, laughing along with all his demons around him, and the poor girl was a victim to its vile tortures, her screams filling the room, which to them was music. At that moment, Draco really felt like he was one of those demons. He made her take out each nail out of each of her fingers using the glass. When he found nothing else she could possibly do without killing herself, he decided to proceed to the next Unforgivable.

"_Crucio!"_

Her screams were just as loud so they made no great effect anymore. They kept watching her like she was doing some very interesting magic trick, or was just something of great interest to them. The Dark Lord stood with his arms crossed, analyzing every moment. He kept the curse going until Voldemort signaled him to stop and proceed to the next one.

The moment had come. But he had already committed such evil that he could no longer tell the difference. He didn't remember at that moment that he had never actually killed a human being before. It came naturally to him when he did it.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

It was actually a merciful thing to do. She fell limp on the floor and her unbearable agony was finally put to an end. He stared at her fallen, destroyed body and the rush of Dark power was incredible. With only two words he had ended her forever. All over the room, people were smiling at him with pride.

The nearest Death Eater stood from his chair and approached the fallen girl, and put his hands on her neck.

"She's dead," he declared.

Immediately the room was filled with clapping and cheering and even more looks of pride. Draco was filled with great relief and joy as Lord Voldemort's blood red eyes observed him.

"Well done, child."

* * *

The next morning, Harry Potter held the glass with both of his hands and stared at the red liquid it contained. This could _never _compare to what he drank from Hermione. Not even close. It momentarily satisfied his thirst the moment he drank, but moments after he went back to feeling the same. And the thirst was much, much worse now that he had tasted human blood and was aware of his nature.

"Drink up, Harry, yeh got ter feel better."

He looked up at Hagrid and smiled.

"Yes, thanks, Hagrid, for all your help," said Harry, and he raised the glass toward his lips and drank the blood, pretending to really like it. It wasn't very good because it had already gotten cold. But he honestly felt very grateful for the help he was given by Hagrid and Lupin, even if he knew it was not that helpful at all. No matter what he did, the thirst was simply the same. He had to lie to them when they asked if he felt better. Although he did feel better emotionally while he heard Lupin's story, about what he went thought during his similar transformation into a lycanthrope. With this he already felt a special bond with the man, who was now the closest thing he had, besides Hermione, to a relative. Harry listened as he slowly drank glass after glass of the animal blood Hagrid had given him.

The owner of the house was going to get more, even if Harry insisted that what he already had was fine.

"Nonsense," said Hagrid dismissively. "Yur a fledgling. You need much more o' this to feel even slightly bett'r." He had been gathering some hunting materials while Harry drank, and now he faced his guests and smiled at them. "Well, Dumbledore told me you two 'ave some business ter attend to, so I'll leave you two alone."

"Are you sure you don't mind if we have the lesson here, Hagrid?" asked Lupin politely.

"Of course not!" the half-giant replied emphatically. "Anything ter help Harry. I'll be outside. Come on, Fang." His huge dog gave one of his very loud barks and followed his master outside.

Lupin looked at Harry. "Are you done?"

The young wizard put down the empty glass. "Yes. We can begin now."

They were sitting in a corner of the house on two of Hagrid's very large chairs, facing each other. Lupin had his wand in his hand.

"Professor Snape never explained to you _anything _of what I just said?" asked Lupin with clear indignation.

"No. He didn't, not a _thing,_" replied Harry, almost through clenched teeth. How he hated that bastard at that moment. No wonder he had failed so miserably in those lessons. And all this time he had thought he was a failure in Occlumency.

Lupin looked furious. "I can't believe that man," he said in a way that surprised Harry. Lupin always tried his best to conceal his strong dislike for Snape. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about this. It was probably _his_ fault your mind got even _more_ open to the Dark Lord!" He sighed angrily. "Alright, I'm sorry, we don't have a lot of time so let's start practicing."

"Okay."

"Now try to remember all I told you. You really need to _visualize_ yourself between those four brick walls like if you were there." He explained to Harry with a clear voice. "Concentrate on the texture and colors of the walls to make them as real as possible to you. Then you concentrate on the door that is right in front of you, and with all your mind power visualize the small open spaces around it being covered completely by the walls. The light coming from the other side is the invasion into your mind, and you must block it out. _Concentrate._"

Lupin gave Harry a few more moments to clear his mind and concentrate on the scenery he was supposed to be in. Harry clearly visualized the walls and the door. He stared fixedly at the spaces between the imaginary door.

"Are you ready for the first try?"

"Yes."

"Alright. One, two, three - _Legimens_!"

_Bright light everywhere!_

Before he could even attempt to block out the invasion of blinding white light, it was already all around him in the "room". Lupin was able to enter his mind as see flashes of Harry's memories. There was Uncle Vernon pulling him by the hair and throwing him into the cupboard; there was him sitting in a dirty floor singing happy birthday to himself, with a birthday cake he had drawn on the dirt; there was him slaying a basilisk with Gryffindor's sword; him getting "I will not tell lies" cut into his wrist with Umbridge's deadly quill - but Harry was all along trying as hard as he could to fight the invasion. He visualized the light disappearing through the door with all the power he could summon. And in a few moments, the light was gone.

Harry collapsed against the back of the chair; he had been floating a few inches. He breathed as if getting out of a struggle.

"Very well, Harry!" exclaimed Lupin. "You were able to get me out on the first one! Excellent."

Harry smiled. This was so much better then having Snape yell at him.

"See? This is one of the first signs that your new nature might also benefit you, Harry. This proved your mind power is very, very strong now." A moment later, Lupin's smile faded away and his tone became serious. "That was Dolores Umbridge in the memory, am I right?"

"Yes," replied Harry with a frown. He felt instant boiling anger at the thought of that vile woman.

"Good Lord, that's terrible," said Lupin with indignation. Harry could only imagine the way Lupin must have felt after seeing such traumatizing and sometimes depressing memories, which he had been so accustomed to. For a moment, Lupin's eyes reflected deep sympathy for him, but then he resumed his teacher attitude again.

It went on for another half hour, more or less. After four more attempts, Harry was able to force Lupin out of his mind a few seconds faster. One thing he discovered with amazement - and that he tried to keep secret from Lupin - was that he was able to somehow control the memories shown during the attack. He had prepared himself beforehand to try all he could to conceal, for example, what happened the previous night with Hermione and Ron. It must have been his new vampiric mind power, like Lupin said, that gave him the ability to do this with only his will power.

"Alright, now let's try one more time and that will be it for today," declared Lupin. "You look very tired."

"Alright," answered Harry. He was exhausted, magically speaking.

"Get ready. One, two, three - _Legimens_!"

Again came the flash of memories and invasion of light. There was Harry pressing his hands against Quirell's face, making it burn into ashes; there was him driving away hundreds of dementors with a single patronus charm; there was him watching in horror as Sirius fall behind the veil, so gracefully and suddenly that it was as if he did not die, but merely fell away from sight...

And then, as vividly as if it were happening in that very room, the next memory came. It arrived out of nowhere, and this time Harry wasn't able to stop it from surfacing.

A woman with long black hair was dueling Harry in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, when all of the sudden the young wizard roared "_Crucio!"_ looking absolutely alarming with hate. The woman fell on the floor and writhed and screamed in pain as the young wizard advanced with his wand raised, maintaining the spell. "This is for Sirius!" he yelled fiercely. It was only after ten seconds or so that the witch finally managed to break off the curse with her wand, and continue dueling Harry despite the excruciating pain she obviously felt.

Before Lupin could see any more, Harry was finally able to throw him out of his mind. They rested on their chairs; breathing as if they had both run a mile. Lupin was looking at Harry in complete shock, while the young wizard let his gaze drop to the ground. The older wizard understood exactly what he had just seen. Lupin had been there in the Ministry of Magic during the attack, moments before Harry had managed to disentangle himself from his grip in order to run after Bellatrix Lestrange.

For a moment there was silence except for the sound of the fire crackling. Harry slowly looked up at Lupin. The older man's face was a mask of sorrow, his eyes watery with sadness. His voice was a perfect reflection of his facial expression. "Harry...believe me," he insisted. "I understand _perfectly _what you felt."

Harry looked down again. He couldn't stand the look on the other's face. He blinked as he felt his own eyes watering, filling with blood tears.

"It was absolutely _terrible_, what happened. But that is not the way to solve it, Harry."

"I know," Harry whispered weakly.

"Remember that I am not only some Order member who tried to hold you back before you ran off. Remember that _he_ had been my best friend, since we were young boys..." Lupin was choking with emotion, which Harry knew would happen to him as well if he spoke. "Even if I didn't show it, you know I was enraged as well. But Unforgivables...they are just that, they are inexcusable, unreasonable..."

"I was completely devoid of reason..." Harry whispered, forcing himself not to break down.

"I understand," said Lupin with a slow nod.

"- so I just lost control. She simply ran away like a bloody coward. I had to go after her. It was an impulse."

"Please Harry. I know you have heard it a million times but you _must_ learn to control your impulses. That's what Dumbledore has been talking to you about, especially now..."

"I know, sir. But that was just too unbearable." Now Harry felt the blood tears fall down his cheeks like in the previous night. "To see the last person I had as a family member, murdered just like that right in front of me. And then the way that evil woman taunted me about it as I chased her." Harry's face became dark and ugly. "It made me feel the most loathsome hatred. It just triggered something..." he trailed off. He couldn't go on reliving that terrible experience. He wiped his tears and summoned all his strength to calm down, to stop the urge to succumb to weakness again.

Something deep inside his heart frightened him, because he knew that it was true. And that was that he honestly never regretted what he had done. He really thought that the only thing Bellatrix Lestrange deserved was to be inflicted with a permanent Cruciatus Curse and die only after many days of unbearable agony. This cruel thought he had on the back of this mind was now present and he tried as much as he could to conceal it from Lupin.

The older wizard had been watching him all that time with that same heartbroken expression. Harry noticed that his eyes were filled with genuine love and concern the whole time. "Harry, you must understand that you are like a son to me. I must teach you that you are much better than that."

He then surprised Harry when he got out of his chair and approached Harry's, leaning closer to him and looking into his eyes. "Listen to me closely, Harry; _Revenge is not the answer_."

Harry's eyes closed for a moment since he felt pain, not because of guilt, but because it hurt him to realize he did not agree with that statement. He felt like the only thing he had left was revenge.

"As a newly made vampire, it is absolutely _crucial_ that you don't let things like this happen. Harry, you _must_ not let them happen, no matter what!" Lupin's tone now filled with admonishment. He was backing away to sit back on his chair. "Please listen to our advice. If you don't you might be lost forever in a way you cannot yet comprehend. And this could start easily with use of any type of Dark Arts."

What followed was one long lecture about the Dark Arts, which Harry had indeed heard a million times before. But to be respectful, Harry kept looking at Lupin seriously and nodding his head in understanding. It was annoying, but deep down inside he did appreciate his concern.

"...just remember that much more experienced wizards have fallen under the influence of these curses."

"I understand."

"And now that you have this new nature, it's even worse. You'll be more easily influenced."

"Yes. But sir, will you tell others about what you saw?" asked Harry with a pleading expression. The thought had occurred to him during the little "speech" he had been given, and it scared him. The last thing he needed after so much mess was to be thrown in Azkaban for life.

Lupin slowly shook his head. "O_f course not_, Harry. How could I?"

Intense relief.

"Everything that happens during these lessons will remain between you and me," Lupin assured him. "But you must _promise _me that you will follow my advice."

"Yes, of course," replied Harry, trying as much as he could to seem honest.

"Promise me you'll be strong, Harry. Promise me you'll avoid any type of evil _at all costs_."

"I will," answered Harry and again, his gaze dropped to the floor.

* * *

"Okay. This time, _you'll_ do it Draco. Go on."

Draco Malfoy looked at Henry Cunningham with surprise for a moment, and then he grinned smugly. He pointed his wand at the fallen Goyle.

"No! Stop!" yelled Goyle, crawling back on the floor with obvious fear. "Why! Don't do it!"

"_Obliviate!"_

A beam of bright white light shot out of the tip of Malfoy's wand and landed on Goyle's face, knocking the large boy backwards into the floor again. The blonde wizard stared for a few moments at his victim as he stored his wand inside his robe. A bit of fear got to him after a few moments when he realized the other boy hadn't moved. He looked at Henry.

The other wizard grinned. "Don't worry. He's fine."

Malfoy felt instant relief when Goyle finally moved and thought, _Thank Merlin I didn't get him killed!_

Henry laughed. "Killed? Hilarious, Draco. But that's impossible with a Memory Charm."

Goyle sat up abruptly and smoothed the back of his head. "Oooww...that hurts!" He then looked up at the boys in front of him, his unfocused gaze lingering on Draco. He looked at him like he hadn't seen a human being before. "Who are you? Where am I?"

Again Draco flashed another fearful look at Henry, but was calmed again when the other made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Owww...why does it hurt? What is this place?" inquired Goyle with almost alarming confusion, then he looked again at Malfoy as if he just noticed he was there. "Oh, hey Malfoy!"

"Good," whispered the blonde, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"What happened?" asked Goyle, scratching his head.

"Get up," commanded Henry, and the boy immediately did so. "I'm sorry Goyle but you have to leave now." Henry's tone was so cold that it must have scared Goyle, who looked back at Draco with confusion but said nothing. Then he walked toward the door of the Room of Requirement.

"Wow, wait, _where_ am I? Oooh, right! Hogwarts!" they heard Goyle say loudly as he left the room.

Draco still looked worried. "I didn't ruin his memory forever, did I?" he asked.

Henry chuckled. "So concerned about your dear friend now, are we? He'll be fine! Nothing too serious, after all that was your first actual attempt."

They were walking toward a part of the room that had a bunch of pillows on the floor and burning incense, like a place used for meditation.

"You heard him as he went out! Are you saying I _did _ruin something? You said I was ready! And it can be traced back to me as the cause..."

"Draco, Draco. Stop worrying, alright!" Henry interrupted in a condescending tone. "It's just a _little_ damage. He'll just be confused a lot for a while that's all, and it won't be that noticeable, after all..." He laughed again. "No one will expect Goyle to have a sharp mind. NOW STOP WORRYING. You need to relax now."

"Sure...relax," echoed Draco. He lay down on the cushions that were on the floor, and Henry sat nearby on another pile of cushions. "I know everything went really good at the meeting, but I still haven't _done _anything, I haven't brought him -"

"_That's_ what we're working on," interrupted Henry with a little impatience. "You master this with humans and you're good to go. The same thing goes for the Memory Charm. Now shut up and try to clear you mind like I always tell you. Change your state of mind to Aura Traveling."

"Yes, sir," replied Draco and he closed his eyes.

Henry waved his hand and a cage from the other side of the room flew across it and landed beside him; a big, ugly rat was inside it. He placed it between him and Draco, and sat there with a patient expression. For a long period of time, the blonde wizard lay there without any visible change. The other simply stayed there, observing.

Slowly, a reddish mist perfectly visible to Henry began to appear throughout Draco's body, slowly growing a few inches thick. The mist was like moving light, with strands of darker color swirling within.

"Now move it to the target," whispered Henry, and the mist surrounding the other's body began to move away from where it came, like water running down a surface, and it floated toward the caged rat. Like a claw made of light, it covered the animal's body and surrounded it completely. Henry watched as a much more dim mist coming from within the animal started to leave its body, and began to mix with Draco's own. "Good," Henry whispered again. "Now draw it with all your power."

A few minutes later, the rat lay lifeless on the floor of the cage, and the reddish mist traveled back to its original source.

The two Slytherins stood facing each other. The mentor was looking at his pupil with satisfaction.

"You live up to your surname, Malfoy. You've progressed with everything quite fast."

Draco's expression was smug. "Of course."

"But don't be overconfident. You need to practice everyday if you want to succeed. And I won't be there to remind you."

"Yes..."

"From now on you're on your own, my friend. Now you go on ahead and be a prefect, it's very late," suggested Henry with a dismissive hand gesture. "I'm staying here for a while."

"Alright," said Draco with a shrug. "See you around then. Thanks for everything."

"Of course," replied Henry as the other walked away. "Purebloods should always help each other. Our deal is almost settled."

They exchanged smiles one last time.

Soon Henry was left alone. He started to walk slowly around the room, pacing, looking like he was trying to make up his mind about something. A wardrobe materialized in a corner of the room and he changed his attire, and then he stopped what he was doing for a moment and thought to himself with conviction:

_Yes. It is time._

Henry Cunningham stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed as he concentrated only on what he wanted that room to become. Then everything became a whirl of color and movement.

* * *

Harry Potter was sitting in the common room late that night, reading as usual in a dark corner near the window. His gaze lingered for a moment on the common room and he saw Ron heading toward the boys' staircase with Neville. Just before Ron got out of Harry's sight he looked over where Harry was and, spotting him, gave him an obviously hostile glare. Harry didn't return the look but merely looked back at his book with apparent indifference. He sighed. The truth was that he _was_ depressed because of the entire situation, but he felt like he could do nothing about it. Hermione arrived from the library but she went straight to bed after kissing Harry goodnight. Again he was left alone.

He resumed his reading but was soon interrupted by the strangest sensation. It was like someone was calling his name, but silently. He just sensed the intention of someone of getting his full attention. And then a voice resounded inside his head, as if it came from everywhere at the same time but also from inside his own mind.

_Meet me now in the Room of Requirement._

Harry was immediately frightened. He was unable to process the message for a while due to his amazement at what he just experienced. It was like a god-like being had just communicated with him. Feeling numb and hesitant, he closed his book.

A part of him told him to ignore this, because either he was crazy or because whatever had made that voice was probably too much to handle. What if it wanted to harm him? But right when his true Gryffindor self broke in, like a slap in the face to remind himself who he was, the voice sounded again:

_You will not be harmed._

Again, he froze. But then he thought to himself: "_What is wrong with me? I'm the guy who's faced Voldemort like five times and survived!" _

Harry went quickly toward his dormitory to get his usual "sneak out" tools; the Invisibility Cloak and the Maraunder's Map. Of course, he also took his wand just in case. Whatever it was that was calling him, and for what reason, he just couldn't ignore it. He left through the portrait hole wearing his cloak and easily made his way toward the "secret" Room he knew so well.

When he paced anxiously back and forth before the wall to get to the Room of Requirement, he really had no clue what to expect waiting for him behind the door that was going to appear soon. But he definitely didn't expect it to be the person he saw when he entered the room, which had been transformed into some small but luxurious common room.

The new Slytherin, Henry Cunningham, was sitting on an armchair by a fireplace reading a book, dressed so well that for a moment Harry thought it couldn't be the same bloke in Slytherin Hogwarts robes he had seen the past few weeks. Henry was wearing some handsome black garments and long black coat, with a dark red buttoned shirt underneath that was slightly open on his chest, where there hung silver pendant necklaces with complex symbols or seals and a great deal of expensive looking silver rings on his fingers. His stylish appearance was shocking, and more so when the guy looked straight at Harry, gave him a welcoming smile and said politely, "Good evening, Potter," as if everything was perfectly normal.

Harry knew his mouth was hanging open; because of who he saw, and because he had clearly seen him while he was still behind the Invisibility Cloak. The young wizard took it off and blurted out, "How'd you know it was me?"

Henry laughed, looking like a charming gentleman. "Because I sensed it," he answered with a shrug. "And because I wasn't expecting anyone else. That's a really nice Invisibility cloak by the way. Where'd you get it?"

Harry was walking across the room toward the boy but he still felt numb. He looked at the cloak that he held with the tips of his fingers and then back at Henry, feeling lost all of the sudden by the simple compliment. "Er...Thanks. It was my father's."

Henry Cunningham was the source of that strange, god-like voice he had heard?

_How on earth could he do that? No normal wizard...no human..._

As Harry silently approached the two armchairs by the fire, staring at the creature in front of him, all he could think of was one rude but obvious question.

_What are you?_

Henry chuckled again. "I am what you are," he said, clearly having read Harry's mind without difficulty. "Now sit. Please."

Harry sat as he kept staring at the other in amazement. "Who exactly are you, then?"

A sinister smile appeared on Henry Cunningham's handsome face. Harry could see a glimpse of his small but sharp fangs, similar to his own, which he hadn't noticed at all before.

"I have had many names over the generations, as I've lived many lifetimes," he said. "But you may call me Henry. After ten centuries, I don't really care what people call me these days."

"Ten centuries?"

"Yes, I do not look it, do I?" asked Henry with a smug smile. "A soul that's lived a thousand years in the body of a young man. Delightful, isn't it?"

A thousand years. The first thing that came to Harry's mine was that this being lived at the time of the founding of Hogwarts.

"I was one of Slytherin's first and preferred students, as a matter of fact," said Henry with obvious pride, but then his tone changed completely and his face darkened. "However, I've had the misfortune of watching throughout the centuries how wizards have progressively disgraced themselves and destroyed one another, especially the ones with the purest blood. Oh, how they would disappoint my old master..."

Harry frowned at the tone he was using. "You sound like Voldemort."

He was surprised when Henry hissed at this and threw him a disgusted look in response. "That lying half-blood," growled Henry. "Don't ever compare me to that disgusting thing."

"You're against Voldemort?" asked Harry with surprise.

"I _loathe_ him," answered Henry, his glare fierce, and as he looked at the fire his eyes reflected the flames sinisterly, as if they were coming from the eyes themselves. "It is an unbearable disgrace for him to call himself Slytherin's heir," he hissed. "Above all _him_, the worst of half-bloods, born from a filthy Muggle father and a squib mother. How on earth did he end up a Dark Lord? His followers are all bloody fools."

Harry tried to sympathize with Henry's little angry rant, but his language disturbed him too much. _Filthy Muggle? _

"Oh, you'll understand someday," said Henry with a dismissive hand gesture. "There is a lot I'd like to show you. But right now we must get to what's important."

"And what is that?"

"Obviously, I know that the old man already spoke to you about what you are. But you should also know that I am your Maker. I am here to be your guide, and thought that now was the best moment to reveal myself to you."

Harry stared into the other's eyes in silence. He couldn't believe it. How could he be that "angel" that saved his life, this Slytherin in front of him?

"Oh, but I am, Harry. I saved you from death like you asked. I gave you life."

"Life?" snapped Harry with sudden anger. "You call _this_ life?" But before he could complain any further, a flash of red in Henry's eyes shut him up immediately.

"Do not be ungrateful. If it wasn't for me, you'd be _dead._" Henry's tone was calm but alarming, and very intimidating. "And you wouldn't want that would you? You begged me, remember? You begged me to turn you as you died, as you suffered. You _wanted_ to live, so you'd be here to save your precious friends."

"Yes, yes, I know...sorry..."

"Tell me. Would you have _wanted _me to let you die, so there would be no one to vanquish that poser called Voldemort?" asked Henry.

"No, no, I thank you," replied Harry with humility, surprised at his own tone. Henry seemed satisfied. "Forgive me. It's just that...I do not understand what I am. I don't want to be this!"

"You have no choice now. That's why I'm here," Henry's tone changed back to the pleasant one from the beginning. "You see, I granted you the favor of letting you live because I want you to fulfill your destiny. I'm here now to help you, my friend."

Harry had a hard time believing that. Henry sighed. "What could I do to make you trust me?"

_I don't trust Slytherins, especially those who are friends with Draco Malfoy..._

Henry laughed as if Harry had said that out loud.

_And instinct tells me I shouldn't trust vampires either. You're all of that combined._

"You'll be miserable if you don't learn to trust your own kind."

Your own kind. It was too unbearable to think about.

"Yes, _your_ kind," insisted Henry. "And the only reason you suffer is because you do not accept your nature. You are sick and weak because you refuse to feed like you're supposed to. You're being extremely foolish."

"I will _not_ drink blood. I will not harm anyone."

"You stubborn fool. If you keep ignoring your thirst it will only get worse. And then one day you will snap and you will kill the first person you see, I can assure you."

Harry shook his head. He knew he was in denial. All he could think of was blood and the thirst was unbearable. The small taste from Hermione was all he'd also felt that crazy instinct taking over sometimes, like sudden urges to attack people out of desperation and hunger.

"I have been a vampire for a thousand years, I _know_. Now listen to me," Henry commanded. "I have given you powers that most would kill for, understand? But they're only obstacles if you don't learn to use them by building your strength, which can only be done the way I'm about to show you."

"You gave me powers?"

"Yes, I gave you my ancient and powerful blood, so you might have gained numerous abilities. But you'll merely go mad if you don't learn to use them. Don't you want to vanquish that half-blood that killed your parents?"

How heartless it was to say it with the tone he did. But Harry was too intimidated to say something about it. "Yes, I do," he answered angrily. He also knew Henry was completely right of course. He was already losing his sanity from hearing people's thoughts and conversations inside his head all the time.

And yet there was one thing that bothered Harry the most. "Then if you're so powerful and hate Voldemort so much, why don't _you_ kill him?" asked Harry boldly. He was surprised when Henry merely smiled.

"It would be my pleasure, actually. But that is not my destiny; it is yours, 'Chosen One'. And you would never be happy unless you kill him yourself, you know that," he answered simply, and then paused for a moment. Harry knew he was right; he would never feel at peace unless he personally vanquished Voldemort, a thought that scared him a little.

"This is enough talk. Now you must come," Henry declared, and he stood from his armchair.

"Come? Where?"

"Just come with me," answered Henry, and he walked toward a wardrobe that apparently just materialized in the room, and took out two dark traveling cloaks. He threw one to Harry. "Put this on, it's a cold, rainy night. We're going on a little field trip right now."

"We can't go anywhere from in here," said Harry while he put on the cloak alongside Henry. "And also, they'll know - "

"Nonsense."

A large window appeared in the wall and opened up. Harry looked out in wonder and saw the tops of the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

"I'm going to teach you the most important lesson," stated Henry with his hand outstretched toward Harry, who suddenly felt uncomfortable at the thought of holding this creature's hand. But he found himself walking closer. Soon he held the cold, white hand and was further surprised when the other held him close by the waist. Before he could protest, however, they were already flying rapidly through the cold night air in a whirl of dark colors. It came so fast it started to hurt his face, so Harry found himself holding on tightly to Henry, his head against the other's shoulder.

* * *

The night was dark and cloudy. Two figures walked across the empty streets together; they were two lone creatures of the night in an area that most muggles prefer to avoid. Their long dark cloaks billowed in the cold night winds as they paced, almost glided, across the dark.

"Where exactly are we, Henry?"

"Somewhere in downtown London. But that's not important. Just follow me."

They approached some abandoned buildings in the corner of the street. They were now entering a dark, narrow space between two of the buildings that reminded Harry of the ones in Knockturn Alley. He continued to follow Henry despite what his mind told him; this was definitely a place teenagers - everyone, as a matter of fact - should stay away from.

"Ahh, but we are not mere teenagers, are we?" said Henry with amusement, his prenatural voice echoing strangely against the walls. "You know nothing of our powers yet, my fledgling."

"What are we doing here?"

"Shh...you'll see. Now be quiet, and listen."

Immediately Harry heard the whispers coming from the back of the building. A gathering of men - thieves, to be precise - was happening at that moment. And he and Henry were heading toward that meeting. Soon Harry realized what they were there for.

"Precisely..." whispered Henry, this time in a voice no human could have heard. Then his soundless voice entered Harry's head again.

_Evildoers. You know how hungry you are. Simply search their minds and you will see their ruthless crimes. This will take away any pointless guilt you might feel._

Search their minds. Harry was surprised by how naturally and easy this came for him. He merely thought about it and he was already seeing images from the men's minds, who weren't in sight yet. He saw terrible crimes; murders, rapes, violence all over. These men had done these things. All of them had.

_Yes, and now you shall stop them, and your own suffering as well._

But Harry felt a pain in his chest. His noble quality was still there, telling him not to do it, to back away. Killing can never be justified, or can it?

_Think about all the innocent lives you'll save if you end theirs._

Henry knew _just what to say_ and when because Harry was almost immediately convinced. Then again, he was hungry, unbearably hungry, and his mind was altered by it. A few seconds later, both of them finally stood in the shadows looking at the men. Harry could sense - almost see - the warm, delicious blood flowing though their veins.

With a mischievous smile, Henry said to his companion, "This is what you shall do. It'll come naturally, just follow me."

Before Harry could reply, Henry was already walking, with incredible confidence, toward the group of thieves. There were four of them. Foolishly, Harry worried for Henry for a moment. He couldn't believe that the young looking teenager was the predator among those monstrous men.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" greeted Henry loudly, with a tone of exaggerated kindness. Harry gasped. The thieves all looked at the intruder and twisted, evil smiles appeared on their faces. Henry's voice was inside Harry's mind again.

_Come, Harry. Trust your power._

As if in a trance, Harry slowly walked out of the shadows and followed his maker.

"Well, what do we have here? Two pretty boys!" sneered one of the thieves - a man with long, dirty black hair and a leather jacket. All of them looked like drunken bikers, probably in their late thirties or forties, and their buff bodies were filled with tattoos. Harry thought they looked like human waste, these thieves. They all laughed in delight and stood up, crossing their arms or taking out a knife, or a gun - like the one who spoke and was now approaching Henry.

The vampire laughed at the thief in his face and sneered, "Let's see what you got, scumbag."

This obviously made the thief instantly angry, but the man only laughed and pointed the gun at Henry's face, glaring at him. Before he pulled the trigger, however, he was flying through the air.

It happen too fast for any of the humans to see, but Harry saw it; Henry simply moved to the thief's side in the blink of an eye and shoved him with only one arm - but the guy flew up about five feet in the air and crashed against a pile of trash at the other side of the place, before anyone could detect any movement whatsoever.

The others were obviously shocked at this, but they reacted quickly. The other one with a gun tried to shoot Henry as well, but before he knew it the vampire was right beside him and had twisted his arm painfully, breaking his elbow. The guy yelled out in pain and the gun fell on the floor. At the same time, another had launched himself toward Harry, who reacted with pure instinct and, with his recently discovered speed, easily dodged and caught the guy by the neck, forcing him on his knees. He then took the knife out of the thief's hand, threw it far away, and did something else purely out of instinct.

Harry bent down and bit into the guy's neck forcefully, breaking it. A gush of warm, delicious blood flowed into his mouth and he drew it out gulp after gulp, much more powerfully than when he fed on Hermione. He was unable to think for a moment of anything else but how great it felt. The beating of the guy's heart was combining with the beating of his own, prenatural heart, making a weird rhythmic music inside his head. The same rush of images being shoved into his mind came along with each gulp of blood, like he was sucking out the man's life itself.

He heard screams of pain and more bodies crashing against things all around him, but nothing could stop him from drinking. It was too pleasurable, more than any other pleasurable thing he had experienced in his entire life, and he never wanted it to end. The beat of the heart was fading more and more. Way too soon, he felt a powerful hand separate him from the bloody neck of his victim.

"No!" Harry growled, surprised at how beastly he sounded. Henry was holding him with one hand and the victim, now dead, with the other. He was smiling proudly.

"Calm down, now," commanded Henry with patience. "Remember this, it's very important: you _must_ stop feeding before the heart stops completely. Never drink the blood of the dead, understand?"

Harry nodded, but his monstrous side was still taking over him. This had only made him even thirstier than before! He wanted more!

"Ah, then have more," insisted Henry with a deceivingly innocent smile, and he gestured toward the other men that were now on the floor, moaning in pain. There was another one lying close by whose skin was white - drained completely - like the one Harry just fed on. "Look, you can take any of the other two. I'll let you choose first," added Henry with feigned kindness.

Within a second Harry had somehow moved on top of the nearest living one. He held him up; bit hard into his neck like he did with the other one, and drank. The same awesome sensation came. At that point, there was no space on his mind for any guilt. He just drank.

Henry laughed and said, "You're doing perfect. Just as I expected."

Seconds later, a groan from the other side of the room indicated that the other vampire was doing the same thing to the last helpless thief. Both creatures drank with pleasure on that dark and eerie place, under the bright and indifferent stars.

* * *

"Of course, when you do it on normal basis you don't have to make such a spectacle. This time I did it just to make it fun."

Henry was taking off his coat and putting it back on the wardrobe he created with his thoughts on the room of requirement. Harry was doing the same, but he couldn't help but feel how the euphoria of moments ago was finally wearing down, that intense pleasure trip he was on when they feasted on those thieves. The rational side of his mind was starting to work again.

_I killed two men. I'm a murderer. _

Hot, burning guilt kept accumulating with each passing moment. As the blood that was clouding his brain started to move throughout his body and fill him all over, he could feel the strength accumulating within him. But he couldn't care less about power and strength at that moment. He was gone mentally from the world, until he felt someone gently pull up his chin.

Henry was standing right in front of him, his piecing brown eyes, full of understanding, were looking into his. Immediately Harry felt his mind starting to calm down.

"What you feel, Harry, is only temporary," said Henry with the same angelic tone Harry vaguely remembered him using that day in Diagon Alley. "It is only a phase you must overcome as you become stronger."

"How do I overcome it?"

"By remembering always that you are justice. Know that you are good by slaying the evildoer. Know that you are serving the world by doing so."

How smooth his words were, his tone...

"After all, that is what you're supposed to do, am I right?" stated Henry with raised eyebrows. "Be the savior of the world?"

"Yeah," replied Harry, although he frowned at Henry's sarcasm.

"No, not sarcasm. Harry, I take you very seriously. The reason to feed is not only for your survival and well being," explained Henry with a more serious tone. "With each evil scum you feed on, you increase your own powers and strength; both magical and vampiric, understand? Only blood and experience can give you the strength you need to succeed."

"But I don't need to kill to drink blood..." Harry pondered, but the trailed off. He knew that would be extremely hard to do. When he fed, he felt possessed by some savage instinct that prevented him from thinking at all. The victim becomes merely food.

"You could try," suggested Henry with skepticism. "I mean, you _can_ go by only drinking that animal blood they're giving you. But it won't satisfy you at all. And of course, it will do nothing to increase your power."

Harry knew Henry was right. He paused to think it over.

"So...I have no choice. I have to kill forever now," said Harry, more to reassure himself. "I have to live as a fiend for the rest of time."

Henry had the most compassionate expression on his face as he replied. "Yes. That is the sacrifice our souls must take."

The sacrifice out souls must take. How innocent he made it sound.

"Look, you will get over the self-loathing with time, alright?" Henry's tone was getting more irritated. "I'm telling you, it's a phase we all go through, unfortunately. You'll get used to killing. For now you must remember some things before we leave."

Harry nodded. Henry looked into his eyes as he spoke, his expression serious.

"First, the most obvious. We will make a wizard's vow to keep this all a secret, what we are and what we do. The people who know our nature already are more than enough. _No one_ must know of our little hunting trips."

"Alright."

"Also, you _must_ feed, especially now that you're only a fledging. If you don't, your progress in building power and strength will be slower. And we don't want that do we?"

Harry shook his head and said, "Nope, don't want that", even if he knew he wouldn't get used to killing any time soon.

"Good," said Henry. "If you wish, I can instruct you on our ways until you are ready to act on your own. I can teach you how to use your powers. Soon you will build up the strength to bring down the snake Lord and his Death Eaters - which you desire, don't you?"

"Of course," answered Harry truthfully. He was shocked when he realized he would feel no guilt after killing one of _those_ people.

"You definitely need to block your mind from others, so they wouldn't know about this. This is _really important._ So keep practicing that Occlumency."

"Yes. I understand."

"Alright. Well I am sorry to leave you now but I have some business to attend to. You didn't think I dressed so fancy just for you now did you?" he asked, then laughed at Harry's annoyed expression. "We'll meet around school later, then."

Henry picked up his books from the summoned table and headed for the door of the Room of Requirement as he spoke. "We're in that project together, so no one would think it's odd if we're seen together, you know, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. See you around."

"Right, see you around," answered Harry as he watched the one who made him what he was leave the room.


	5. Influence

**IV - Influence**

* * *

Only one light on the entire Malfoy Manor was turned on so late that night. From the outside the Manor looked like a tiny candle inside a large dark room, which was actually the huge mansion surrounded by its even larger yard. Its beautiful, well-kept gardens made it look like it was hidden in a forest when it was actually near a crowded city. A dark figure was walking, more like gliding silently with ghostly movements, across that large yard toward the manor's entrance.

Two women sat together in the small but very luxurious light-filled room drinking tea. The one with long and sleek blonde hair was wearing a fancy, ruby colored witch robe, and she looked radiantly elegant. Her looks matched the surroundings so perfectly it was obvious she was the lady of the house, and the other one her guest. This other woman looked dirty and a little disheveled, her long black hair untamed and her long black robes messy and slightly torn.

"Narcy..." this woman was whispering to the other, her voice weak with exhaustion. "You might not notice my happiness now, but I am more than I have ever been. The Master has given me so much honor! He has finally let me stand at his right side!" Her eyes glowed fanatically as she spoke. "Three raids in one night is perfectly worth it if He thinks it is. Don't you see? We are winning already. We have gathered more followers than ever. And next week, we will prove this to them all, to the Ministry, to that damn Order...the attack will be brilliant, phenomenal..."

"Yes, but Bella, look at yourself. You can barely stand up right now. And that attack is too risky, I mean, just like that, in broad daylight? It's madness..." the blonde woman pleaded, her eyes filled with concern. She squeezed the other's hand as she spoke.

"How dare you. Never question the Master, sister," the other replied coldly. "He is always right. If he thinks it will work, then it will work."

Mrs. Malfoy was shaking her head. "It's too much...First my husband, then my only son, and now my sister as well...forgive me, but I can't bear it. There's no need for all these risks..."

Bellatrix sighed impatiently. "Above all, you should be honored that your young son got such a privilege as well, one that no boy his age has ever received. You must learn to trust our Lord. He would have never given him the tasks if he didn't think he'd succeed." She looked into her sister's eyes and studied her suddenly troubled expression. For a few moments, Mrs. Malfoy looked away, her eyes unfocused, lost in her thoughts, not really listening to her sister's fanatical rant.

"...to achieve greatness there are always sacrifices to be made, Narcy," insisted Bellatrix. "Why have you lost your passion, your resolve to achieve our goals? You must learn to be stronger, to be the way you were before - "

"Excuse me, my lady?"

A soft voice suddenly interrupted Bellatrix. In the door stood a simple and shy-looking young woman wearing a uniform and her hair in a bun, one of the mansion's servants.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt, but you have a guest," she said apologetically, bowing her head slightly. "He says it's important."

Bellatrix looked irritated at being interrupted but then she was surprised at the announcement. She turned to her sister, eyebrows raised. "Guest? Who could be visiting you so late at night?"

Her sister didn't reply.

"What's wrong, Narcy?" asked Bellatrix.

Again no reply. Bellatrix's expression became one of concern; Narcissa looked fearful, her eyes gave that away, even if she tried to hide it with her gesture and her voice when she finally spoke.

"I have a visitor, you say? Who is it then?" she answered in her usual authoritative tone.

"He told me he is Henry Cunningham, my lady, Father of the Cunningham line."

There were a few seconds of stunned silence. And then a high cackle destroyed it very suddenly. Bellatrix shrieked with her maniacal laugher, making both Narcissa and the servant feel nervous.

"Henry Cunningham, you say? She's joking, isn't she Narcy?" asked Bellatrix between outbursts of more laugher, but then it died down. Her sister now looked openly frightened.

Bella turned to the servant girl and her tone became serious. "Wait...the guest actually said this, servant?"

"Yes...that's what he said to me..." replied the servant quietly, looking very confused at the situation. Narcissa was staring at her, speechless.

"Narcissa..." Bellatrix leaned closer to her sister and whispered, "She of course doesn't _know_?"

"Of course not, you fool," replied Narcissa, but this time her voice trembled slightly, betraying her intention of sounding authoritative.

"Shall I show your guest the way to this room, my lady?"

"Y - Yes...of course, bring him here..." answered Narcissa, clearly nervous.

"Yes, my lady," replied the servant respectfully. She gave a little bow and left.

Again Bellatrix stared in amazement at her frightened sister, who had suddenly become very pale and seemed unable to move. She held her sister's shoulder and shook her, but Narcissa wouldn't even look at her. "Narcy, tell me what's going on! Why are you frightened? The guest couldn't possibly..."

"Get out of here, Bella," said Narcissa in a shaky voice. She put her hand inside her robe and took out her wand.

"What?"

"I said...please...get out of here before you see him..." pleaded Narcissa, raising her voice, and now she was looking into her sister's eyes.

Bellatrix got out of her chair and stood right in front of her sister, grabbing her by both shoulders. "What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded. "Why do you feel the need to take out your wand? Tell me what's going on!"

"It really is _him_, Bella...you must...get out of here, please," Narcissa pleaded desperately. When her sister didn't move, she yelled, "Get out, now!"

"My, oh my...sisters should be nicer to each other, _Narcy."_

Both women froze as soon as they heard the smooth but oddly unnatural voice. Narcissa felt like her heart would stop and remained motionless but Bellatrix took out her wand, turned around and faced the person who had entered the room.

"Who are you?" she commanded, pointing her wand at the mystery guest's face. "What do you think you know by the using that name?"

The guest simply looked at her with amusement, completely unconcerned at the fact that a wand was aimed at him. "What a rude way for a pureblood to greet one of her family's most ancient ancestors," he reprimanded Bellatrix like he would a child, then he added more seriously, "you disappoint me."

"Bellatrix, please!" cried Narcissa. "Put the wand down!"

"No!" answered Bellatrix, but her bravery seemed to be wearing down with each passing moment. For some reason, something was changing in her as she looked at the person in front of her; at his youthful face, oddly radiant eyes, gleaming pale skin, flawless hair...then she gasped. His nature finally came clear to her. "Narcissa...is this really..."

"Yes, Bella..." answered her sister quietly, weakly.

In only a few seconds, a wave of images rushed into Bellatrix's mind all at once. She felt an imaginary slap in the face when she made sense of them all. She saw herself standing in front of a huge Black family tree with her father, studying it with pride, hearing his tales of all their honorable pureblood ancestors. Her father's voice echoed clearly in her mind...

_"...all of these here are descendants of Lord Henry Cunningham, who was none other than Lord Slytherin's most valued follower and is also one of the most ancient ancestors we know of. He is the radiant youth in the paintings, Bella. Only a few of us know his true nature, and the secret of it has been kept for all these generations. For a millennia, he's looked over our family, and we believe he still roams this world, even if he hasn't been seen for more than a century..." _

Bellatrix could see those paintings in her mind very clearly, the ones she had seen so many times of that great, legendary ancestor of her noble family. The paintings were of different centuries and historical times, but they all reflected the same beautiful, proud face...

"Eternally young..." whispered Bellatrix as if in a trance, her eyes no longer fierce but abashed and fearful. The hand that held the wand was now shaking. She was looking at the face she had known so well for her entire life, the face she and her family worshipped, and her chest felt like it could explode from a myriad of emotions.

"Lord...Cunningham..." Bellatrix whisper reverently, and she let the hand that was holding her wand finally drop.

Henry Cunningham's expression did not change.

"Narcissa...it's really Lord Cunningham!" cried Bellatrix, and before she realized what she was saying or doing, she had dropped to her knees, her arms wide open. "This is our great Father, sister! The pupil of the Greatest Wizard Lord in history!" She looked up at the guest, tears flowing down her hollow cheeks. "I beg you to forgive me! I did not know! I did not think it was possible to ever look upon you, my Lord!"

"Do not apologize or try to flatter me with names, child," replied the guest coldly.

"It was true after all, the legend...the secret we have kept for centuries and centuries..." Bellatrix was looking up at him like he was a god. "Sister...why didn't you tell me!"

"I'm terribly sorry," Cunningham interrupted her. "I don't have time for any of this. I came to speak to Narcissa."

"Yes, of course, please sit down Lord Cunningham, forgive my sister..." pleaded Narcissa, who was still sitting in the same place, looking scared. The guest walked toward Mrs. Malfoy, ignoring Bellatrix. But then the witch stood up approached him again.

"Please...if you've forgiven me," she continued to plead. "You must tell me if it's true...What we believe about the Great Lord Slytherin - "

"Why must I say anything to you?" he asked coldly, causing her to freeze again with surprise. She was standing close to him now, still trying all she could to gather her courage.

"I am begging you, our family, for centuries, have all been dying to know..." she trailed off. She could only think one thing with her fanatical mind.

_I must tell Master...as soon as I can, I must tell Master... _

"No, you will not," declared Cunningham, and then to Narcissa's horror, he quickly pulled Bellatrix very close to him by the arm, immobilizing her.

"No, please don't hurt her!" cried Narcissa. She finally stood up in alarm, but stopped when Cunningham gestured with his other hand. He was looking into Bellatrix's eyes, which were wide with fear and only a few inches away from his.

"Your inferior _half-blood_ Lord will not know a thing," he sneered. He held Bella by the waist with one arm and, after touching her face with his other hand, she instantly became limp, unconscious, and he held her in his arms. Narcissa gasped.

"No!"

"Quiet, Narcissa," commanded Cunningham as he took Bellatrix to the nearest couch. "Merlin, woman, you need to learn to trust more. She is unharmed. And she will not remember anything that happened." He accommodated her gracefully and then walked back to the pale Mrs. Malfoy.

He chuckled softly at her expression. "Oh dear, you have your wand out and all," he said in a playful tone. "Don't tell me you fear _me_, Narcissa, who has been training your son and looking out for him all this time."

"Please forgive me..." she whispered and hastily stored the wand back inside her robe. "But it would have been unwise to not be cautious. I had no way of knowing how you'd react to my sister finding out..."

He chuckled charmingly again and sat on the chair previously occupied by Bellatrix. "I suppose so. Anyway, it hurts me how much you modern purebloods disappoint me," he began with a serious tone. "Your son did not suspect a thing, about our deal. He didn't even question the reasons I gave him for being in that school in the first place. And that old Headmaster, who is supposed to be so wise...he does not suspect a thing either. It's disappointing how easily I can scan his mind. I hope it's because he has his guard down, and doesn't expect there's an enemy in his wake."

"So you have not encountered any problems at all? From Dumbledore or the Order?" asked Narcissa. She was paying close attention to all the words spoken by the intimidating being sitting next to her.

"They have Death Eaters under their nose and they don't know a thing. I thought they'd at least see a resemblance when they first saw me, I thought they'd know more about their own history. But that isn't so."

"Yes, but you mustn't forget they are not as wise as you are," said Narcissa respectfully. "Please...I must know, so far, do you think my son will progress quickly? Do you think he will accomplish his tasks without getting hurt?"

"You can be sure of that. You need not worry at all. His father has trained him very well. And now _I'm_ teaching him, so he has no way of failing."

"Yes, thank you so much," said Narcissa with a small bow. "You also know of course, that he _must_ learn to conceal his thoughts from the Dark Lord. Has he mastered Occlumency?"

"Yes, yes, mother Malfoy, why aren't you listening to me?" he replied dismissively. "I said you need not worry. I have already given him the tools he needs to succeed. Now all you have to do is have faith in your son."

"Of course..."

"Now what's important is this Unbreakable vow I've made with you and your husband," declared Henry. "I've begun my part. Now comes yours."

"Certainly."

"Do you have the memories?"

Narcissa nodded and sighed in a way that indicated an inner struggle or maybe even guilt, as she took a glass vial out of her robe that contained a swirling white mist inside. "Pardon my hesitation," she said softly. "But I will never be comfortable using any type of magic against my own sister without her knowledge."

Cunningham took the vial from Narcissa and smiled at her slyly. "You should be proud of you own abilities, to be able to extract this information."

"It's just not like me..."

"I'm _terribly _sorry I had to make you do this," said Henry, not sounding sorry at all. "But I underestimated the Death Eater's ability to conceal her mind. You must have patience. Soon enough, you will thank yourself a million times for this."

"I sure hope so..." she whispered.

Cunningham smiled at her. He stood and walked, regaining normal human movements, around the table to stand right before Mrs. Malfoy. She looked up at him with surprise and then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Like I said before, there's no room for doubt. Do as I say. Then all will come as I have planned, and all will be right again." He looked into her eyes, his face only inches away from hers, his look seductive. He caressed her chin and added softly, "You have no reason to worry. You husband will be out of prison, your son will be safe, and a great miracle will happen. Trust me."

She was looking fixedly into his eyes, clearly mesmerized and whispered, "Yes..." so softly it was barely audible.

"Good," he said with a mischievous smile. He turned and walked toward the doorway, and as he did so he said over his shoulder, "Your sister will awake soon. Watch over her closely."

Narcissa didn't reply. She hadn't moved at all and was staring off into space as if she was still in a trance.

* * *

_A week later._

The suspiciously long period of complete peace in the Wizarding world - one that lacked any Death Eater attack - had only given the community a false sense of relief and caused the Aurors and Dumbledore's Order to worry more each day. They had tried every possible means to know what Voldemort's followers were planning to do next, but even spies like Severus Snape were not very helpful.

Harry was sitting as accustomed in the Griffindor common room, in the sofa next to Hermione and Ginny along with other students, not really taking part of their social interactions until he heard someone yell as soon as he came into the room through the portrait hole.

"Someone turn on the telly, quick!"

It was Seamus Finnigan. He went quickly to one of the corners of the room where his friends were sitting.

"What's wrong Seamus?" asked Dean Thomas.

"Death Eater attack! The worst one yet!"

Everyone in the room went quiet at once and looked over to where Seamus was with very intense worry.

"I don't have my wand with me! Come _on_, put the news on!" insisted Seamus. One of the students near him, who was practicing with his wand in hand, waved it in the direction of their "telly".

It has always been interesting for Harry how wizards adopted so many things from the muggles. What had been "turned on" was not at all similar to what a muggle would call a television, but instead it was composed of only four wands. When the student waved his wand, the other four floated up until they formed a square, staying parallel to each other. Within that square the images appeared, very similar to how they'd appear on muggle television, but in three dimensions, as if the images were actually happening right there in front of them. They were seeing a witch reporter sitting on a desk, again very similar to muggle newscast, with a small square on her side that displayed what she spoke about.

"..._Again, we have interrupted the program for these breaking news, a ghastly incident that has occurred only moments ago in the city of London..."_

The atmosphere of the room immediately became very tense, and everyone gaped at what they saw, horrified. The little square had been enlarged and now all they saw were muggles running and beams of light hitting them from every direction, and they heard the reporter's voice over the sound of the muggles' screaming and of the bangs and explosions caused by the spells.

"_The Death Eaters have unleashed their most disastrous attack yet, resulting in the death of nearly three hundred muggles..."_

The people in the room collectively gasped. They were watching images of complete chaos and destruction. They watched in awe as the entire London bridge fell on the water below along with a great amount of people and cars, all while beams of light crashed against it from every direction. They saw giants and werewolves attack terrorized muggles who were running for their lives. Then they watched Aurors fighting the creatures and dueling masked and robed Death Eaters, who amazingly disappeared in a gust of smoke as soon as a curse hit them.

"What was that?" someone cried out in fear.

"They couldn't do that before! Dear Merlin..." said another Gryffindor student.

Harry stared at what he saw in disbelief. Entire buildings had crashed down from where they stood as if the ground had turned to liquid.

"..._The ministry of Magic is currently in an uproar and has gathered all its forces in an attempt to fight off the Dark creatures and the Death Eaters themselves, who have shown themselves in broad daylight. Ministry officials are accessing power boosts in order to achieve mass memory modifications..." _

There were images of ministry officials standing in rooftops of buildings, pointing their wands and creating links of very bright light between them, which in turn fired off memory charms - in the form of beams of green light - in every direction toward every visible muggle.

"..._The Ministry has confirmed that today The Decree of Secrecy has been violated more times than ever in history. The time needed to repair the damage will be very extensive. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fugde, is urging the wizard community to remain calm and cooperate in any way possible..."_

When the image of Cornelius Fudge appeared and Harry started to hear his speech, almost without thinking, he stood up and walked away from the wizard television and the group of students. He couldn't take it any more. He stood in a corner near the Portrait hole, barely listening to what Fudge was saying.

"Damn it," he whispered angrily as he tightened both fists. He felt like punching a wall. _Those despicable bastards! They've gotten much more powerful...that means Voldemort has definitely increased his powers as well. What should I do...what _**_can_**_ I do?_

"Harry," pleaded a soft voice near to him. Hermione was by his side and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Harry sighed. "You can keep on watching that. I can't, I have to go."

She looked at him tenderly. "I know how you must feel right now...it's just too horrible. But we'll stop them Harry, we'll stop them soon," she reassured him.

Not really meaning to be rude, he snorted at that with disbelief. "Sure, 'Mione. Look, I'm leaving, I just need to be alone."

"Alright, but Harry -"

Before she could say anything else to him, he had already gone through the portrait hole and out of the common room.

* * *

Harry Potter didn't know how much time he spent sitting alone in a bench near the Hogwarts Lake, lost in his thoughts of frustration and anger.

If he looked fixedly at the Lake and tried to concentrate on other things, sometimes he could block out the anxious voices from far away in the castle. He already knew that Dumbledore had left again to help the Ministry fight off the Death Eaters - alongside his Order, that only he and a few others knew. That made him think, "What about me? What do I, Harry, the supposed 'Chosen One', get to do?"

He was obviously not allowed to go with the Order and fight. So then, was he supposed to stay here, miserable and useless, just like everyone else in the school?

He sighed heavily and attempted to calm down again. But just when he finally started to feel the soothing comfort of his solitude, he felt someone approach him with great speed and sit beside him on the bench.

It was Henry Cunningham, of course. Who else could do that before Harry even sensed the presence at all?

"Sorry to interrupt your moment of darkness," said Henry playfully, his expression mockful.

"No, I don't mind at all, just keep bothering me," answered Harry sarcastically, not looking at him.

"Bothering you?" protested Henry with a fake offended tone. "How could that be? I have only tried to help you, and you've been avoiding me all week."

"I'm sorry alright, it's just not easy for me..."

Beside him, Henry gave an impatient sigh. "Now you finally see why you need to listen to me? What can you possibly achieve in your present state? The half-blood Lord gains more power everyday, and his followers are out there doing horrendous mass muggle killings, destroying cities, yet you decide to do nothing because of some stupid moral issue."

"It's not stupid!" Hary protested.

"A killer is a killer, Harry, no matter how much you kill," said Henry firmly in Harry's face. The raven-haired wizard turned away looking clearly ashamed and remorseful. "It really makes absolutely no difference whether you kill one, five, three-hundred - you're still a bloody killer."

"No, if you kill more - it does make a difference, alright!" Harry countered.

"No...but it _would_ make a difference if you'd kill someone who would have killed many, many innocents, wouldn't it?"

"Henry, what exactly do you want of me?" said Harry as he looked back at Henry, devastated and torn in half by his inner battle.

"I want you to _open your eyes,_ to stop thinking and start _doing_," his maker replied dramatically, and then with a smirk he added, "Also, I will obviously _not_ accept a weak, disgraceful fledgling. Don't you want to know the truth? Don't you want to be _useful _for a change?"

"Truth about what? What on earth are you -"

"Come," ordered Henry, and he quickly stood and started walking toward the Forbidden Forest.

"Not again!" complained Harry in exasperation, although he stood and followed Henry in only a few moments. "Another field trip?"

"Indeed," answered Henry, his lips curving into a tiny, mischevious smirk. "Hurry up unless you want to be seen. We'll take off from the forest."

Harry tried as much as he could to catch up with his maker's prenatural speed. No human could have detected their movements as they sped through the school grounds and finally entered the dark woods of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Many miles away, a large tornado of wind and bright white light appeared before the large yard of a mansion similar to Malfoy manor, but this one was within an actual forest, located in a beautiful countryside somewhere in England. Harry couldn't even process where he was, nor was he able to even process what exactly happened. He fell on the ground from the air ungracefully, like a sack of potatoes, and gave a sharp cry of pain as he hit the surface.

Beside him, Henry Cunningham landed with great ease, his knees bending only slightly before he stood upright and looked at the fallen wizard-vampire on the ground next to him. "That was _very_ charming, Harry," he said mockingly amongst his laughter. "Very graceful indeed..."

Harry felt like he had broken every bone in his body. He groaned loudly and looked up at Henry, glaring, still lying on the ground in pain. "Damn you, bastard, why didn't you warn me the tree branch was a bloody portkey?" he said with barely any breath.

"What else could it have been?" replied the other with amusement. "Why else would I ask you to hold it along with me?"

"Oh, shut up!" snapped Harry.

"Come on, Chosen One, get up!"

They walked toward the mansion's entrance, past its large fountain, and Harry still smoothing his back, amazed at how quickly the pain was dissolving and how rapidly he felt himself heal. Only a moment later, he was feeling as good as new again. "So...you mean bastard, where are we?" he asked irritably to the being walking in front of him. "Is this your mansion?"

"Oh, how very sharp Harry, how could you have possibly known that?" replied Henry sarcastically. "Of course it is." His tone changed into a serious one. "It's only one of my manors. It gets quite boring here in this large house when you're alone for too long. But that doesn't matter. I keep some important things here that I want to show you."

They entered the manor, and it was huge. Harry's first impression was that it looked like a royal castle, because the ceiling was very high and the rooms very spacious and luxurious. He was led across many long hallways, lit only by a couple of torches, down a couple of flights of stairways, and finally down yet another corridor. Harry couldn't help but marvel at how big the place was, that not even the outside looked large enough. He suddenly thought that it must be enchanted, like the tent he used about two years before, at the Quiddich World Cup. They finally reached whatever destination Henry had determined, and walked through what looked like the door to an ordinary room. But as soon as Harry stepped inside, he knew it wasn't.

The first thing that came into his mind was that this room had the weirdest walls ever. Then he was suddenly in awe.

"Merlin..." he gasped, and as he looked more closely, he finally realized that the things in the walls were actually extremely large family trees. He couldn't tell how many there were in total, but he could tell that they covered all of those gigantic walls entirely, and they extended throughout the room, exposing hundreds of generations of what he knew had to be witches and wizards. He was so amazed that he ignored the owner of the house and approached the nearest wall and studied it closely. In the space of about a foot, there were probably twenty generations. The branches where so many they had to be very small to fit even in that huge wall. Henry stood next to Harry, watching his fledgling's amazed expression.

"That's right. As you see, in this room I keep track of many wizard bloodlines, but the main purpose is to watch over a particular important and very authentic family tree, which I have watched grow for many long centuries," explained Henry. "You should know which one it is. Look in front of you, use your perfected vision and find the oldest ancestor."

It took him only a few seconds to find it. "Slytherin," said Harry with awe. "So you've kept track of this for so long..."

"Yes," replied Henry. "It is an honor to watch my old teacher's descendants for this long. This single purpose has been one of the things that has helped keep me sane throughout my long existence. Slytherin has always valued his family and the purity of magical blood, so I knew he would have wanted me to do this. So I did, ever since he was vanquished by that fool, Gryffindor..."

Harry snorted at Henry and he continued to study the family tree. "Yeah, because he had to stop your beloved Dark Lord teacher from continuing to kill muggles with basilisks, didn't he?" Harry said boldly and defiantly. Then he was completely surprised when Henry merely laughed.

"Dark Lord? Incredible. What a perfect example you are of how the minds of modern wizards are filled with complete rubbish," Henry said with amusement. "It's a horrible thing, but if I didn't laugh at the disgrace I would've gone mad eons ago..." His voice became very serious and he declared, "Salazar Slytherin is, simply put, the most misunderstood wizard of all time."

Henry made a series of hand gestures and more light filled the room, revealing many portraits and maps of wizarding communities around the world. Harry walked around the room studying all he saw with natural curiosity, while Henry kept explaining to him.

"Dark Lord, you say? Only fools call themselves that and need to flaunt their power for the entire world to see," Henry said. "The true masters do not need fancy names and their power is known without any effort from their part..."

Harry was watching many portraits of Slytherin, whose face he had known by means of the art he'd seen of him. Most of the paintings and images showed him with what must have been his students in the beginning of Hogwarts, others with many wizard whose face he did not know, but he assumed must have been his family and followers.

"Only incompetent wizards limit themselves to one type of magic. What use could there be in slaughtering Muggles and Mudbloods when the effort could be used to achieve much greater things?" mused Henry. "The Dark Arts by themselves are useless when you can instead erase the boundaries of Magic itself, and create instead of merely destroy! This was Slytherin's _true_ ideal."

Harry looked back at Henry for a moment, who was leaning against the wall next to him, staring off into space as he spoke as if his mind had been completely elsewhere.

"What do you mean, erase the boundaries of magic?" inquired Harry. "You mean immortality? He was your maker, wasn't he?"

Henry was looking at Harry with a sly smile. "Indeed he was my Maker, but as I already said, he was vanquished," he replied, his gaze unusually dark. "And I do not expect you to understand his brilliant ideals. You are too young and have not seen many things, just like the rest of the ignorant wizard community. What you _should _understand is that Slytherin was only punished with such a negative reputation because other wizard's limited minds could not comprehend him and his great goals."

Harry had already browsed all the portraits until he was back to where he started. He looked at Henry with slight confusion. "Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked. "Why should I care?"

Henry didn't say anything. He looked at Harry with a small smirk for a few moments, and then he lifted his arm. Harry watched him pointing toward a small part of Slytherin's family tree, one at the bottom, indicating that those generations were the most recent. The area he was pointing at was lit with a white light, similar to that of the spell _lumos_. Harry read the names from those generations and froze. He suddenly felt like an idiot for not suspecting it before. He saw his name, which was connected to another, very familiar one.

_Lily Evans._

He continued to stare for a moment that seemed to last an age. He could easily tell that this was an authentic magical family tree, and the fact was there, inscribed in that wall right in front of his nose. His mind felt like it was frozen.

"So this means..."

"That you should know the truth about your ancestors, of course," answered Henry with a casual tone. "And also that there's no so-called _Slyherin's heir_," he added clearly, his face darkening. "Therefore, Voldemort is a bloody fool to call himself that. That clown of a Dark Lord is a complete disgrace for the name of Slytherin and his ideal. Descendants of Salazar Slytherin live throughout the entire world, in very different countries, and many of them, unfortunately, don't even have magical blood left in them. Ironically from the only ones alive in the present, only a handful are actually wizards..."

"He'd hate his descendants, then," teased Harry distractedly, still staring at the names in disbelief, as if expecting them to change.

Henry chuckled. "No, not hate. Muggleborns have always been so many, hating them is a waste of time. This only means he would value the magical ones with pure blood much more - But don't feel too special, you're only one of them. Even if you happen to be the only one living in his native land."

Harry was filled with a myriad of questions. Was this for real? If it was, how come he didn't know this before? Had anyone else known this and kept it secret from him? And why hadn't Henry approach him before? His brain simply couldn't process how his Muggle-born mother could be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the biggest pureblood supremacist in history.

Henry's loud laugher again interrupted his musings. "How pitiful is your lack of understanding," he exclaimed. Harry mind snapped back to reality and he saw that Henry was sitting on a nearby chair, next to one of the tables in the middle of the room that was crowded with all kinds of magical objects.

"Come, sit," Henry requested, gesturing toward the chair next to his. "Allow me to explain. This will take a while."

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, the Sixth Year students were taking a break from their busy but customary day at school. They sat together with their respective groups of friends, divided mostly by the House they were in, talking, eating and laughing, some were studying, all involved in their usual shenanigans and mostly ordinary lives. But this wasn't the case with Draco Malfoy.

The blonde-haired wizard was leaning against a dark corner of one of the corridors that surrounded the student's usual meeting place. He watched them from his concealed spot with his arms crossed, his face in a scowl that ordered anyone who approached to keep away. His mere posture depicted an intensely anti-social intention. His cold, silvery eyes were squinted as he glared at them and his straight blonde hair - which was now a little longer than usual - hid most of his handsome but intimidating face behind a few strands.

"Useless people," he whispered to himself resentfully. "There is so much happening out there, yet all they think about is their worthless lives."

At that moment he heard the voice of an annoyed Blaise Zabini, which indicated he was somewhere along that corridor. "Where the hell is Draco?"

Draco grimaced with dread. Damn them, he thought, why couldn't they stay away, especially at this particular moment? But it was too late. For a few blessed moments he saw Blaise, accompanied by four others, almost pass by his small hidden corner without noticing as they quickly walked across the corridor. But unfortunately, Goyle looked sideways in the precise moment and spotted the usual leader of their gang.

"_There_ he is!"

Draco sighed. They were surrounding him now, disturbing his needed moment of solitude and worsening his mood. He ignored what they were saying to him and he wished he could simply walk away, but he knew he couldn't. He continued to closely watch the assembled students farther away.

"Er...Draco?" asked Blaise with intense concern. "Are you alright? Why are you ignoring us?"

Silence.

The group of Slytherins exchanged looks of worry and confusion. They watched the friend they thought they knew, who now looked like he was permanently sick - he not only acted colder than ever but he seemed to have lost his desire to speak to anyone, when before he always taunted others and never hesitated to boast or say anything he wanted. His impeccable appearance had deteriorated. His hair was no longer combed sleek and perfect, and he had dark shades under his eyes as if he couldn't sleep anymore. Also, he was paler than he'd ever been. It disturbed them greatly that no matter what they said to him, his expression never changed, as if he had lost the ability to feel or think.

"You've been acting very weird lately, can't you tell us what's going on?" pleaded Zabini.

"You can trust us, you know..." said Nott.

"Yeah," said Crabbe, nodding. "We've got your back, mate."

Draco's gaze finally moved to the boys in front of him and he watched for a moment their slightly frightened expressions. The look on his face was clearly intimidating them, and more so his icy voice.

"Go away."

It took them only a few seconds to comply. Draco continued to watch the other students, completely disregarding their presence.

"Come on," whispered Nott, and the others followed him, away from their friend, their faces full of confusion and concern. Draco could hear them whisper among themselves the moment they were out of his sight. He had no time to pay attention to what they were saying, however, because he saw that his target, who had been sitting on one of the benches below the largest tree of the yard, finally stood and walked away from her group of friends.

He stood upright and abandoned his secret spot and started to walk down the corridor, in the same direction she was going from the other parallel corridor. He continued to follow her as she went into another, intercepting corridor at the end, close to where the other two met. She was apparently lost in her thoughts and had not noticed someone was walking behind her even when the hallway was empty except for them. He watched as she entered a door to her left, the girls' bathroom, and then he stood before it. Draco looked at each side to make sure no one was there. Then he took out his wand, held it in front of him with both hands, and whispered an incantation.

"_Ostendo locus_."

White mist came out of the tip of his wand and formed a ball of light above it. Within it, a red dot with the exact shade of his magical aura indicated to him where he was located within approximately a hundred feet around the wand. Another dot of a shade of light blue, which was located near his, indicated where his target was by means of magical aura. A smirk appeared on his face for the first time in a very long time, because there were no other dots, which meant there were no other magical beings within that space. He knew he had to do what he had to do immediately while he had this advantage.

Draco took out his wand and slowly went inside the bathroom. He made as little noise as possible when he came in and stood in the middle of the room, before the bathroom stall he knew his victim was in.

Holding his wand the same way he held it moments before, he closed his eyes and whispered a simple word very clearly while focusing all his power on his intent.

"_Conceal."_

Out of his wand came a strong white light that expanded to cover the entire room, and then the next second the room had become extremely dark. Immediately he progressed to quickly whisper a long incantation, trying as much as possible to concentrate on it instead of thinking about his target for those moments.

"..._Auntunctonus, extrinsecus-extremus expelautorius incomparabilis inoduce intretio ueratius-ueraciter..."_

The witch, who was still inside the stall, was obviously frightened. She quickly took out her wand and asked who was there.

"..._umbra una unciartum, usurpo usus messiss molior mortalitas auraue opnon ornamentum orsa-orsorum..."_

When she only heard the whispered incantation and no reply, she cried "_lumos"_ to receive light from her wand and kicked open the door of her stall. She pointed the light around to find who was there, but unfortunately, she found the person a second too late.

She attempted to defend herself. "_Stupe-"_

Another extremely bright, but greenish light hit her so suddenly that she thought she had gone blind and its force almost knocked the wand out of her hand. The light grew very quickly and then proceeded to cover every corner of the room and then it absorbed into the walls and ceiling.

Draco was grinning broadly in satisfaction. "_Impedimenta!"_

The next thing she knew, she had dropped to the floor, stiff as a board. She couldn't move an inch of her body. All she could do was move her eyes around desperately trying to find her attacker.

When she finally saw his sneering face, the moment he had knelt next to her, she managed to cry out in anger, "Malfoy!"

"Hello, Weasley," he said with an evil look in his eyes as he pulled down the left sleeve of his robe. Ginny Weasley's eyes became wide with horror as soon as she saw the Dark Mark branded in the wizard's forearm. Her heart felt like it was going to get out through her mouth as she stared in shock at the ugly black skull with the serpent coming out of its mouth. She forgot how to move her mouth in order to scream. Yet she knew that even if the spell was lifted from her she wouldn't be able to move. She could only watch pathetically as her attacker touched the mark with the tip of his wand and caused it to turn blood red. He made a grimace of pain and then he took her hand and pressed it against the mark.

She gasped with pain when she felt the extremely hot surface, but was again too shocked to think when all of the sudden, thick black clouds began to circle them rapidly like a tornado. She no longer felt the floor underneath her and she knew she was floating. Draco was holding her by the arm, and she felt the unpleasant sensation of being pressed and forcefully pulled away, just like in side-along apparition, and she knew she had left the room in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Harry Potter sat staring at the map he had in his hands of the local wizard community, but he was not really looking at it. For a moment he was transfixed by his own thoughts and emotions, and the person sitting next to him simply watched him with a patient expression and in equal silence.

"So let me get this straight," said Harry, breaking the pause very suddenly. He had to clear out his throat because he hadn't made a single sound for a while. "I want to repeat what I understood from all you've said, just to make sure..."

"Of course."

"My mother Lily was adopted by the muggle family, the Evans, and her biological parents are from a pureblood wizard family, the Mordorgoths. This was due to her mother dying in childbirth and then her dad getting sent to Azkaban for cursing a muggle, when she was just a baby?"

Henry nodded.

"Then she found out about her biological family when Voldemort was already a threat to her, and that a vault in Gringotts contained all of the family's money and heirlooms since her father's death."

Henry nodded again.

"So she took many of those heirlooms and hid them in the house in Godric's Hollow, which included books of secret magic passed down through the family for generations, some which require special..." He paused for a moment to remember the correct words, "_Bloodline powers?_"

"Yes, that's correct, bloodlimit powers," corrected Henry. "Those contained in the pure magical link that passes down the bloodline."

"Powers only descendants of that family can use?"

"Exactly," answered Henry. "This is a characteristic only families of the purest blood have."

"Okay..." Harry paused again as if trying to process all this, took a deep breath, then continued. "All of that is contained in some secret room in that house. And in one of those magic books she found the protection spell she used on me, the reason I survived Voldemort's attack. And _all of this_ you knew only because you briefly scanned her mind one day when you came across her?"

Again, Henry nodded.

Harry stared in silence for a moment. Then he sighed and almost shouted, "And exactly how the _hell_ do you expect me to believe all this codswallop?"

Henry merely shrugged and chuckled softly. "I knew you'd react like that," he said calmly. "That's why I gave you the map. If you go there, you'll find all the evidence you need."

"Evidence? Go where?"

"You know where. To the place you've always wanted to visit, Godric's Hollow," he answered simply, and then he pointed at the map on Harry's hand. "It's over there, to the northeast."

Harry quickly spotted the small village on the map labeled "Godric's Hollow". The place was near Hogsmeade, specifically in direction of the Shrieking Shack, which was convenient for Harry. But his feeling of excitement suddenly died down.

"Wait...I thought Voldemort had destroyed the house that night..."

"Lit it on fire," corrected Henry. "But the ruins are still there so it's very easy to spot, actually."

"Yeah...but what makes you think the supposed secret room wasn't destroyed?" asked Harry, confused.

Henry raised his eyebrows. "You think the room wasn't a magical one? She, of course, made it so that only a descendant of hers can go inside. If you go, you'll know exactly how to enter." He gave a cunning little smile. "I have to admit I went there soon after the incident, out of curiosity. And I am convinced that the entrance will be obvious to you the moment you see it. I need not say more."

He gave Harry no moment to ask any questions. He stood right in front of Harry and took one of the wands that were collected on the nearby desk. "If you move your wand above a specific place in the map like this-" He made a circling motion with it. "-It will enlarge."

Effectively, the part labeled "Godric's Hollow" swelled into the size of the whole map, displaying numerous details about the location. Harry watched in amazement, and he was actually able to locate the graveyard where his parents were buried.

"You do the same thing again and it goes back to how it was," explained Henry, then he put the wand back on the desk. "Of course, you shouldn't need a wand to do that, like myself. That is, if you increase your vampiric powers and gain the ability to use wandless magic."

Harry watched his maker for a moment, who was standing over the large desk organizing a collection of wands of all kinds, and then he looked back at the map.

"Oh and...why are these places marked with small 'x'?" asked Harry.

"Those are just places where Dark Wizards and other evildoers congregate the most. The _hot_ spots, as the Ministry calls them. Yes...hot spots describe them pretty well. I marked them so you'd know the perfect places to find the tastiest food." Henry chuckled softly as he watched Harry's expression. He had a mischievous smirk on his gorgeous face and then he stood facing the room's exit, looking back at his fledgling.

"Alright then, this is the end of our little chat. We must return to the castle," said Henry, then added sarcastically, "I'm sure our dear schoolmates have been worried _sick_ looking for us."

* * *

Far away, Ginny Weasley was kneeling on the floor, barely capable of any other movement as she tried to fight off the curse that still caused her body to be very stiff. Her bright red hair covered her face and she was looking down at the floor between her arms, breathing heavily. She was wincing with all the effort she was making on trying to move and she pretended she didn't hear Bellatrix Lestrange's extremely irritating cackles.

"Oh, the poor little girl just won't give up! She thinks she's a _fighter_, like her dear Potter!" cried the dark witch with a horrible baby-talk tone. She had been watching the victim and laughing at her the whole time she had been there. "And you, dear nephew," she said, now looking at Draco, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an aggravated expression. "You are becoming more like your aunt every day! You could have Stunned her or made her unconscious, but no, you wanted to see her struggle!" Bellatrix cackled again. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Sure, Aunt Bella," replied Draco indifferently, but he looked up from the floor toward the struggling Ginny and a dark smirk appeared on his face.

Sweat started to pour down Ginny's forehead as she continued to breathe as if moving an inch was like running a mile.

She knew her face was as red as a tomato when the anger boiling inside her finally burst out. "YOU BASTARD!" she yelled as much as she could, glaring furiously at Draco, who continued to look at her with the same amused expression. "They will know about this and they'll make you PAY!"

"HA HA HA HA HA!"

Bellatrix's cackles were going to drive Ginny crazy any second.

"You think you're brave, little girl?" Bellatrix sneered. "Do you really need our Master to arrive to remind you how pathetic you are?"

"You won't get away with this," Ginny kept yelling at Draco, ignoring Bellatrix and continuing her struggle. "Dumbledore will know! Harry will know immediately, and he'll come and -"

"And what?" snapped Bellatrix angrily and she brandished her wand. "Think baby Potter's coming to rescue you, huh? You'll be DEAD before he even -"

"Aunt Bella!" Draco yelled at her irritably. "Our Lord is arriving any moment, he said -"

"Shush, Draco!" she snapped at her nephew. **"**This girl needs to learn a valuable lesson!" She pointed her wand at her. "She needs to learn to fear and respect those superior to her!"

Ginny was too angry to even care about pain at that point and somewhere in her heart she found more courage. "You are not superior, you coward!" she bellowed. "Fight me fairly and see if you're so great!"

Draco gaped at her. He couldn't help but admire her guts at that point. Bellatrix's faced contorted in the ugliest scowl and she yelled indignantly,

"You filthy little - _CRUCI_-"

Bellatrix's wand flew out of her hand. She gasped and rubbed it absent-mindedly - the spell used to disarm her had apparently hurt her. She had a shocked expression first, and then when she saw who had caused the diversion, it changed to one of horror.

She instantly dropped to her knees and cried out, "Master! I'm so sorry!"

Draco walked toward the middle of the room and dropped to his knees as well. Ginny stared, terrified, at the Dark Lord Voldemort as he came inside the room followed by two masked Death Eaters.

No matter how many times she had heard Harry explain how it felt to face Voldemort, nothing could have prepared her for it. Every aspect was much more terrible than she had ever imagined. The red eyes glowed under a dark hood and the face was simply the most hideous thing she'd ever seen; it was alien-like, absolutely inhuman and his body was abnormally thin. However, that was only the physical part. The mere atmosphere of the room had drastically changed the moment he came in, the same way it would change with a dementor. She couldn't struggle anymore because her body and her mind were paralyzed with fear.

"My dear Bella," whispered Voldemort with a silky voice. "How many times do I need to remind you to control your urges?"

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me, master!" cried Bellatrix.

"This little girl here is our guest. Show her some manners like I told you to."

"Yes my Lord!" she cried, and lowered her head to the floor.

She was a pathetic, sobbing heap of black robes at his feet, and he stood there watching her with the coldest, most inhuman expression. He moved his hand toward the sleeve of his long robe and took out his wand.

"_Crucio!"_

Bellatrix's shrieks suddenly filled the room. Ginny watched in horror and couldn't help noticing that her expression was almost one of pleasure even as she screamed as if she had been thrown into a pit of blue flames. Draco was still kneeling as he watched his aunt getting tortured with an apathetic expression. As the seconds passed Ginny looked back and forth between nephew and aunt and was amazed at how insane they were. She was very thankful when the screams finally stopped. Voldemort approached Draco, who kneeled further down and kissed the hem of his robes. Bellatrix was lying on the floor breathing heavily and mumbling incoherently.

"You have done well, Draco," said Voldemort in his authoritative, cold tone. "You may stand. I see you cast the ward successfully."

"Exactly how it was taught to me, My Lord, yes," replied Draco, bowing his head respectfully. "I spoke to Severus Snape. He'll be ready."

"Good," said Voldemort with a horrible grin. Then he suddenly waved his wand at the horrified girl and she felt the curse leave her body. Instinctively she moved backwards against the wall. "Crabbe!" he called. "Bring the girl!"

"Yes, my Lord."

The Death Eater Crabbe held Ginny firmly by her arms and dragged her toward the Dark Lord as the other Death Eater stood next to Draco Malfoy. Voldemort watched his kidnapped victim with another bloodthirsty grin.

"Welcome, Ginny Weasley," said Voldemort with a deceivingly pleasant tone, "To the place you will call home for the rest of your life."

Horrible laughs were heard, from all the Death Eaters including Bellatrix, who was now standing, propping herself against a wall.

"Take her away," the Dark Lord ordered. Crabbe obeyed and dragged the very confused girl out of the room and down the outside corridor.

"I, of course, have no time to waste repeating my orders," he said coldly as he gave Draco a thin, black box. "You two already know what to do. Off you go."

"Yes, Master," said both Death Eaters in unison. The one next to Draco Malfoy took off his mask with a wave of his hand before his face, revealing his identity. His expression couldn't hide the fact that he'd much rather _not_ do the job assigned to him. He was Barty Crouch Jr, recently escaped from Azkaban and back in service. He took out a dark bottle from inside his robes.

"You succeed this time, Barty," insisted Voldemort with the coldest, most menacing voice and expression. "You fail once more and I will show you no mercy."

"This time I will make you proud, Master," replied Barty with his demented, fanatical expression, and immediately he drank gulp after gulp of the potion contained inside the bottle. Voldemort looked back at Bellatrix, who still seemed unable to stand without holding on to something.

"After I leave, I want you to call the ones in charge of guarding this secret place," Voldemort commanded, then added threateningly. "And I _don't_ want you to hurt the girl in the slightest."

"Of course, my Lord," Bellatrix replied apologetically, almost lovingly as she looked at him. Then she watched, along with the others, as Barty Crouch Jr clutched his neck and made a series of weird choking sounds and twitching movements, characteristic of the effects of Polyjuice Potion. A few moments later, his dirty brown hair had turned long, bright red. He became much shorter in height and his body morphed into that of a young woman. He was no longer wearing Death Eater's robes but instead a girl's Gryffindor Hogwarts uniform.

Everyone in the room was laughing at him. Even with his disguise his embarrassment and shame was obvious.

Voldemort watched the person in front of him with satisfaction, delighted and amused at his reaction. "Go and fulfill your task with pride."

"Of course..."

"Farewell."

Voldemort turned and left the room, his ghostly and elaborate robe billowing behind him. Bellatrix and Draco kept staring at Barty with amused expressions, barely containing their laughter.

Barty turned to Draco and growled, "Give me the damn portkey already!" Immediately he was horrified that such a soft girl's voice had come out of him. He knew it would be a while until he adapted to the new body.

"Easy, Crouch," said Draco, still smirking and pulling the box away from the other. "Snape needs the signal."

* * *

Many miles away, Severus Snape sat in the desk of his office in the Hogwarts dungeons correcting class assignments, when he suddenly gasped and held his left forearm tightly. He had just felt it burn painfully and immediately he knew what he had to do.

He stood and quickly walked toward the other side of his office, his black robe billowing behind him as usual. He took one of the many glass containers from a shelf, opened it, and took out his wand.

"_Bringae Extundus Magialae," _he spoke in a monotone voice, as he waved his wand above the container in looping motions. The dusty substance inside quickly flew out of the container and flowed about circling the entire room, near the floor. With a flick of his wand it expanded to encircle that part of the room and as he spoke another much longer incantation, it turned into very bright green light and then proceeded to grow out and absorb into the walls and ceiling. However, the light was so bright that it had to do this three times in a row for it to finally die down. Snape stood pointing his wand into the middle of the room even after it appeared completely normal again.

It didn't remain that way for long. The green light suddenly reappeared throughout every inch of the room - walls, floor, ceiling - and it was linked to the tip of Snape's wand. A black cloud going around in circles like a tornado materialized from the ceiling of the room, until it grew and reached the floor. As it did so it changed to the shape of a young man and woman, then it disappeared. Standing in the middle of the office were Draco Malfoy and the fake Ginny Weasley.

Snape laughed as soon as he saw the pair, and then he sneered, "Welcome back, Crouch. I see the Dark Lord has..._upgraded_ your tasks significantly."

* * *

Moments later, Henry Cunningham was sitting in a comfortable chair in his favorite Hogwarts room, modified to his liking. He was holding a glass of red liquid that resembled wine, listening again to his favorite Bellatrix Lestrange memory. Everything in it seemed to happen right in front of him like a wizard television, but above his magical pensieve, which was placed on a table in front of him.

"_The essential ingredient for the ritual of Neptune will arrive with no difficulty, my Lord," Bellatrix Lestrange was saying to her master, on her knees. She looked up at him with her eyes gleaming fanatically. "He has learned all he needs to succeed."_

"_I trust I won't be disappointed again,"said the Dark Lord coolly as he stood over her, and with a gesture, allowed her to stand. They were inside a room alone, and the atmosphere was intimate and private. "After all my effort, I cannot afford another mistake this time from my Death Eaters, or interference of any kind.."_

"_Of course, Master," she said to him with the same fanatical expression. "Please be patient with us until we meet your demands."_

_"I will only be satisfied when I have the Sevenfold Encontra and the ritual has been completed. Immortality of the soul is not complete until there is invincibility of the flesh..."_

The figure of Voldemort kept on speaking but Henry let out a soft, knowing laugh, barely listening anymore.

"Neptune ritual," Henry said to himself. "This confirms it. Lord Voldy, you are so predictable." He couldn't help but grin at what he now knew with certainty; moments before, Draco had confirmed that he had successfully completed his first task. The essential ingredient was finally in Voldemort's grasp.

_"The first part has been set into motion," _Henry thought as he watched but not really paid attention to the rest of the memory. "_The rest is up to you, Harry. You better not fail." _

Suddenly the small mirror lying on his lap interrupted his musings. It had turned warm and blue again, so he picked it up. Within it was the image of Draco Malfoy.

"You watch, Henry," Draco said with excitement and adrenaline in his eyes. "You watch how I'll get two of them done in just one day."

Henry smirked darkly at the image in the mirror, which in turn could see his. "Indeed I will. I'll evaluate you very closely."

* * *

In my story, unlike the books, Barty Crouch Jr. is not eliminated by a dementor and rather taken back to Azkaban like it happens in movie 4 (Goblet of Fire). Since the dementors are on Voldemort's side, Death Eaters can now easily escape from Azkaban. Encontra = "opposite" in latin. Sevenfold Encontra = An opposite who is seven times greater than others.


	6. Birth of the Avenger

**V - Birth Of The Avenger**

* * *

The night seemed so calm it felt foreboding, like the stillness that came before the arrival of a storm. Inside his room in the boys' Gryffindor dormitories, all that could be heard were a few loud snores and the sound of the wind blowing through one of the open windows. Harry sat on his bed, curtains drawn, simply waiting until his senses told him that, without a doubt, everyone was asleep. With one hand he held two magical maps; the Maraunder's Map and the one given to him by Henry Cunningham of the wizard communities in England. With the other hand, he held his Invisibility Cloak. His wand, of course, was stored inside the long traveling robe he already had on.

"Time to see if it's all codswallop or not," Harry whispered to himself as put the cloak on and became invisible. The rest came naturally to him due to his experience in sneaking out late at night. Very quietly, he got out of his bed, went down the stairs to the common room, and walked toward the exit.

_"How could I __not__ go there, really, after what I've just found out?"_ Harry thought as he gestured for the portrait hole to open. "_Whatever Henry wants out of me doing this has no importance. I've always wanted to go. And now, finally, I will." _

The portrait hole closed behind him. Now only one person remained inside the common room. The only reason Harry didn't realize someone else was still there was because he had been completely caught up in his thoughts. For the first time, he had failed to sense the presence of his best friend.

"The portrait hole just opened by itself," whispered the bushy-haired girl, who had been sitting on one of the most secluded armchairs near a window in one of the corners. She chuckled softly. "Yeah right. What are you up to, Harry?"

* * *

Miles away, Harry was walking away from the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. Again his previous experiences had helped in going past the Whomping Willow with great ease. The prenatural speed was greatly helpful as well, and because of it he had no need for the cloak anymore. He sped through the small town of Hogsmeade in only a few moments and then across other wizard villages, following the map very closely. This was easy because a small black dot indicated his current location, and all he had to do was move along with it toward his destination.

Then out of nowhere something made him stop.

He was crossing one of the largest towns and had just passed a part that was filled with bars and pubs crowded with partying witches and wizards; one of the places that had been labeled a "hot spot". Something had caught his senses completely, even if he didn't understand how exactly he felt it - a clear murderous intent, and a foreign feeling of panic. Only seconds after he stopped did he realize where this was coming from; within one of dark alleyways of a side street. He clearly heard someone scream.

Almost instinctively, he hurried toward the source of the disturbance.

Then he saw something that scarred him forever.

In that alleyway were two men and one woman, but in the darkness all he could tell was that one of the wizards was holding her back against something as tall as a dumpster while the other one thrust against the helpless witch, holding up her robes, as she screamed and attempted to free herself. It was the most disgusting, despicable thing he had ever seen, and for a moment he froze and could only watch in disbelief as the men laughed cruelly, their twisted faces showing horrible expressions of pleasure. The one that was holding the woman was yelling at the other to hurry up, that it was his turn. Harry was filled with an incredible amount of anger and hate in a matter of seconds and then, before he even realized what he was doing, he bellowed:

"YOU FUCKING SCUMBAGS! LET HER GO!"

The men didn't have time to even process the fact that someone had screamed at them. Harry didn't give them the opportunity to actually obey his command, his hatred and raga possessing him.

The one who was raping the woman was flying though the air in a matter of seconds. Harry had appeared next to him and punched him with all of his strength, and he landed on the other side of the alleyway and crashed against a pile of rubbish. The other one didn't have time to react either; before he knew it, he was being held very hard by the neck, against the wall. He choked helplessly as the one who held him yelled at him with a terrifying voice and called him every foul thing he could think of. That was the last thing the disgusting man ever knew because, in only a few seconds, his body couldn't take it anymore. He was released and he fell on the ground with a loud thump.

The woman screamed with even more horror. Everything had happened way too fast for her to understand. As soon as she could, she ran away from that place without ever looking at the one who had saved her.

Harry was fuming, and he could feel a great amount of power surge through him. He clenched his fists painfully hard, possessed by a rage so strong, only his inhuman aspect was dominant. He slowly walked over to the man he had previously punched, who was now struggling to stand up.

He held the man up by the neck of his robes and obeyed what his instinct demanded; he bit into the man's neck as hard as he could. The man made a loud groan of pain as all of his blood was sucked out of him amazingly fast. Immediately came the rush of images, the man's memories, as they were shoved into Harry's mind. This time he could actually feel the man's magical power accumulating within him, and much faster than ever before, the prey had been sucked dry.

The second corpse fell on the ground. Harry panted and leaned sideways on the wall, feeling the new power that run through his veins and was spreading throughout his entire body. At the same time, he was recovering from the sudden rush of adrenaline and rage, trying to understand all the information he just received. Even among the momentary confusion this created, he said out loud the fist thing he had comprehended.

"Death Eaters. They were filthy Death Eaters."

It had been very clear. He had seen the place where the Death Eaters congregated from the man's memories, a place Harry had seen before and always thought could be a meeting place: Riddle Manor. This was just some of the useful information he had acquired. Only to be completely sure, he leaned down next to the bloodless body close to him and pulled the left sleeve of his robe.

There, clearly gleaming on the dead man's left forearm, was the Dark Mark.

Harry stared at it for a few moments, revolted. Then he remembered one of Henry's most important teachings - always dispose of the bodies - and cursed the fact that he was still underage. His wand remained uselessly inside his pocket.

_Henry mentioned once that I should have the ability... _

He closed his eyes and extended his hand toward the corpse. Focusing on his goal with all his power, he said very clearly, "_Incendio."_

The body burst into flames, erasing all evidence of a vampire attack. As soon as he saw it, he couldn't help but feel completely amazed and proud of himself for performing wandless magic for the first time in his life.

* * *

At that exact moment, his maker was sitting on the edge of the roof on one of Hogwart's many high buildings, leaning back casually as if watching the stars above. It was a beautiful, cloudless night, but he wasn't looking at the sky like a mortal would. He was looking closely at one of the windows of a nearby tower, where he knew most of the Hogwarts faculty slept. He sat there motionless and silent for a while, as if waiting for something to happen.

Then his laugh echoed through the night, bouncing eerily, quite unnaturally, off the nearby buildings and towers of the castle.

"You haven't disappointed me, Draco, you little fiend," he whispered as he continued to laugh softly. His expression was a mixture of wicked amusement and unabashed pride.

No one else would have noticed, but there was a trace flowing through the air, a mist or a cloud of some gas that was almost perfectly transparent, and it was coming from the lowest part of one of the buildings; the dungeons where Slytherin House was located. That weird mist, that seemed to change its color and texture to adapt to its surroundings, like a chameleon, was getting nearer and nearer to the tower Henry Cunningham was watching. It stretched out with an impressive speed, and, while it remained connected to its source, the other end finally reached its destination. It flowed, like colorless fog, inside one of the rooms through the small edges of a window.

* * *

Harry Potter was trying very hard to forget what had held him up on his journey, but he couldn't. The disturbing images of the recent incident were engraved on his mind even after he passed a large sign that said "Godric's Hollow", and he knew that, unfortunately, this would be so for a very long time. The fact that he was finally in the village he once inhabited with his family took a while to sink in. He studied his map again, trying to set his mind back on what he was doing, and with a wave of his wand above it he made the image of the village enlarge. Now all that was left was to find the ruins of his past home.

It was, just like Henry had told him, very easy to spot. The village was a small one after all. He had only walked for a minute or so down what looked like its main road when he spotted, a little farther away and on top of a hill, a house that clearly looked abandoned. Immediately he felt a jolt of excitement and he moved very quickly toward the ruined house.

The nearer he got, the more deteriorated it looked. It was but the skeleton of a house, a place composed by windows and doorways that were merely holes in its walls, and inside nothing could be seen but darkness and the reflection of the dim, silvery light of the full moon. He stood before what clearly must have been the front entrance, and simply stared at the empty ghost house in front of him. He couldn't avoid the sadness that had grown in him immediately, and the anger that seemed to permanently reside inside his heart. He slowly walked up the front stairs and through the threshold of the door. The first second he came inside he was shocked.

As if he had been a light switch, his mere presence had apparently caused a thin bar of light to appear in the middle of the empty, cobwebbed filled place in front of him, like a muggle flash light. He stared at it in surprise for a few moments; he had been told that he'd be shown where to go, but he hadn't expected it to be so obvious and immediate.

_Again that bastard was right._

He couldn't spot the source of the light, because it seemed to come out of one of the walls itself, across the entire length of the house - which, he also immediately noticed, must have lost all its other interior walls in its destruction - until it reached the wall on the opposite end. He took out his wand and illuminated the room, then went to observe the one closest to him for any sign of a doorway or some type of entrance. When he found nothing there, he crossed the room and stood before the other wall. He gasped.

The light was pointing at a large symbol that seemed to be magically drawn in red on the filthy, black wall - a symbol that he recognized within a split second and instinctively caused him to touch the scar on his forehead.

A thin bolt of lightning.

After he finished gaping at it for a few moments, he did the first thing that came into his mind. He reached over and touched the symbol. Without a doubt, this had to be the entrance to the room.

The floor seemed to tremble for a moment, and then the symbol turned brightly white. It proceeded to separate in two halves until it created a space between them in the wall, which suddenly looked like liquid. Harry didn't hesitate. He walked directly through the entrance the same way he did every year at the Hogwarts train station, and then he was inside.

Henry's voice echoed inside his mind. _She, of course, made it so that only a descendant of hers can go inside..._

Harry was standing inside a small, dimly lit room. One look at it basically confirmed that it was the one he sought. "So it wasn't codswallop after all..."

He was surrounded by wooden bookshelves, portraits of witches and wizard that he knew had to be his ancestors, and a myriad of other magical objects and instruments. From what he could tell from his surroundings, the thin bolt of lightning was the family's insignia.

But what caught his eye immediately was at the far corner of the room.

There were two small torches on the ground on each side of a small table placed in front of what was, unmistakably, a family tree, labeled "The Mordorgoths".

As Harry approached, however, his attention was diverted from the tree and fell immediately on what was placed on the table; a medium sized, brown leather book with the words "_Book of Shadows"_ on its cover, and pinched below it - his heart almost missed a beat - a dusty, handwritten note. He picked it up and read it immediately.

_If you are reading this Harry, then unfortunately, I am no longer in this world. I prepared for the worst as best as I could and have left this room only for you to enter. Your father and I have always loved you very much, and if we are both dead when you read this, we hope you'll forgive us. Our only wish is your safety and happiness. For this reason I have placed a protection on you by means of a complex spell detailed in this book: the Mordorgoth family's Book of Shadows. In it you will find all the information you need in order to further protect yourself from deadly enemies and you will find countless unique spells. You are the hope of this world, my dearest, and only you can put a stop to the abominable evil that is Lord Voldemort and his followers._

_With deepest love and affection,_

_You mother, Lily._

He stared at it. Then he read and re-read over and over again the piece of parchment he held with trembling hands.

* * *

After the time he spent in his mother's secret room, he went to the second and last place he wanted to visit: his parents' graves. He took along with him the Book of Shadows, and he was now kneeling before the grave of his mother and father.

**R.I.P**

LILY EVANS

(1960-1981)

JAMES POTTER

(1960-1981)

Harry's eyes itched and he knew they were watering. He felt a thick heaviness in his chest, a horrible sinking feeling of grief, as he reached out and placed his hand on the marble gravestone. With his free hand he took out of a pocket of his robe a picture and placed it next to a small group of flowers he had picked from a nearby garden, propped against the grave. In it were not only both of his parents on the day of their wedding, but also his recently murdered godfather, Sirius Black, the wedding's Best Man. All of them were laughing together and looked like they were beaming right at him.

After a few moments of silent, grief-filled contemplation, he felt another emotion take its place. It was extremely strong and it hit him very powerfully in that particular moment, as he watched the expressions of those he loved, those taken away from him by evil and horrible beings. He had no other choice but to direct all his anger, hate and frustration at a particular target. He must have been shaking with rage as a rush of images came into his head.

They were all connected. He saw the most recent ones mixed with the oldest; the two despicable men he had come across less than an hour ago, and what they were doing; the hated Bellatrix Lestrange torturing countless people, including the Longbottoms, then killing his godfather, Sirius; Voldemort as he murdered everyone that crossed him, including Harry's parents. And then he saw the recent images of the Death Eater attack in London; he saw innocent people dying, screaming in pain - innocent people that were probably suffering _right now._

"This has to stop," Harry told himself firmly, completely convinced. "All of this must be stopped **now**. And only I can do it."

He looked again at the moving picture of his relatives.

_And at the same time, I will avenge you all. Mom...Dad...Sirius...everyone..._

Now both of his fists were closed very tightly. He felt something wet come down his cheek and knew it was a blood tear; not of sadness or grief, but one of anger and hatred.

_The justice that was not there when you died, I will now impose._

Time suddenly seemed to freeze as he felt a very strong conviction form deep inside his soul. At that moment, he knew without a doubt that from that point on, a new determination would guide his life completely.

* * *

Harry had lost track of time so much the previous night, that when he finally returned to the castle the sun had already risen.

"Harry! Did you hear?" Neville Longbottom said to him as soon as Harry sat in his usual spot among his fellow Gryffindors on the long table in the Great Hall. Hermione was on his side and on the other was Neville, who leaned in closer to him and, lowering his voice, said in a very grave tone, "McGonagall died last night in her sleep."

"_What?"_

Only then Harry actually noticed that everybody around him looked downhearted. He couldn't form a reply to such a shocking statement. He simply couldn't understand how someone can just die like that, when they had seemed perfectly healthy and strong, when he had seen that person the day before looking completely normal and lively as always.

"It's just so sudden and unexpected," whispered Hermione, whose eyes looked watery and red. McGonagall had always been one of her favorite teachers.

"But...how on earth could that happen?" spluttered Harry. "I mean, of course they'll investigate the exact cause of death? I don't think McGonagall would just suddenly die like that!"

"They've investigated, I heard," said Seamus who was sitting opposite to Harry. "But they haven't found a trace of any spell or magical working of any kind, so that means it can't have been murder."

"Yes, she appeared to actually just die in her sleep, of natural causes," said Dean.

Harry wasn't convinced. No matter what, he just had a bad feeling about the whole incident and thought there was something very suspicious about it. "I know she was quite old but she was healthy, wasn't she?" he asked.

Nobody was able to answer that. None of them had ever actually known much about Minerva McGonagall. For a moment nobody said anything, and they ate their breakfast - except Harry, who pretended to sip a cup of hot tea. He looked over toward the faculty table and realized that most chairs were empty, including the one rarely occupied by Headmaster Dumbledore.

"And now to make matters even worse," said Neville, breaking the silence with an even graver tone. "_Snape's_ Deputy Headmaster..."

Harry groaned with dread. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Who else could have taken her place?" said Hermione weakly. "You know how Dumbledore's all trustworthy of him..."

They resumed their previous state of quietly eating breakfast, their expressions even more miserable than before. Then the silence was broken again.

"At least there are also some good news," someone said out of nowhere in a dreamy, serene voice. They all looked around. None of them had noticed that Luna Lovegood had been sitting next to them at their table for a while, ditching her fellow Ravenclaw Housemates - something she did often lately, apparently preferring their company. She was holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Two Death Eaters were apparently murdered last night, in a place near Hogsmeade. Look." She handed the paper to the one nearest to her, Hermione.

"The _Daily Prophet _has needed an article like _that one_ for long time," said Neville with a dark expression. "Most already think the only ones dying out there are from our side."

The others expressed their agreement and they kept talking amongst themselves but Hermione wasn't listening to them ("Wow...I wonder who killed them. I want his autograph!" said Dean). She read the article really fast, and then gazed sideways at her best friend.

"See this, Harry?" she asked him as casually as she could. She handed him the newspaper, which he took from her tentatively. "One of them was burnt to a cinder and the other apparently strangled," she said as she studied every detail of his expression as much as she could. "The only way they could identify the one burned was by means of residues of magical aura. The Ministry didn't detect traces of magic in the scene of the crime either."

Scene of the crime. Why was it a crime to kill Death Eaters?

Harry browsed the article and, with a casual tone and expression, replied, "It's interesting, yeah. I wonder who managed to kill them without using magic. Impressive."

Hermione was still watching him closely. "The place they were murdered was a town between Hogsmeade and Godric's Hollow," she said, observing for any potential hint of a reaction.

But Harry merely stared at her blankly. He nodded with an expression that said 'Really? Interesting' nonverbally and then faked another sip of tea. A second later, he felt like he could love Luna Lovegood forever, because she suddenly snatched the paper away from him and loudly declared, "I doubt this was a wizard!"

Everyone paid attention to her again. Luna had been discussing with the others who they thought could have done it.

"Of course, there's only _one_ explanation. It was a mutant blast-ended skewert," Luna stated matter-of-factly.

Everyone in the table groaned and giggled at her like they usually did, but she kept giving theories to support her statement with utmost seriousness.

"It was either that, or..." Lunna suddenly paused, thinking hard. "I know. A _vampire!_"

Everyone immediately laughed at her.

"Yeah right, Loony, that makes perfect sense, a vampire!" teased Seamus as he laughed along with everyone else. They were so amused with her that no one, not even Hermione, noticed that Harry had suddenly left the table.

"Harry?" called Hermione when she finally noticed, but her friend was already crossing the large entrance and then he was out of her sight.


	7. Diabolus Ludere

**VI - Diabolus Ludere**

* * *

Harry actually considered skipping that day's first class, but since it happened to be Potions, he thought it would be a very stupid thing to do; Snape always looked for any excuse to attempt flunking him or take points off from Gryffindor. So, despite his desire to be alone and the fact that he still felt annoyed by the other students, he slowly walked across the long, crowded corridor toward the stairs that led to the classrooms in the Dungeons.

He almost reached the entrance to the stairs when he realized that something didn't feel right. Everyone's loud voices suddenly became much softer, like the volume of a television being turned down. Then all of them appeared to move slower until the whole crowd around him froze completely.

He looked around, shocked; one of the many students was halfway up as she stood from a nearby bench. Near to her another student had been about to drop one of the books he was carrying, which floated in midair. For a few moments all Harry could do was look around him in amazement at the "frozen" students. Then he noticed something that had definitely not been there before.

A large stone archway was in the corridor before him. He stared at it and knew his mouth was hanging open. What was going on? Almost instinctively, he walked toward it, making his way between the motionless students. Only when he was standing right before it did he notice another very unusual thing; what he saw on the other side wasn't the rest of the corridor, as expected, but the Hogwarts grounds, as if looking from the direction of his favorite spot near the Great Lake. He looked back and forth between this view and the corridor where the archway stood, undoubtedly puzzled. He went around the archway and studied it closely and came to the conclusion that this was either some type of powerful illusion or he was dreaming. But then his usual curiosity and recklessness took over him. What would happen if I crossed this arch? It didn't take too long for him to make up his mind.

Just when he thought he couldn't be more amazed, he realized he was very wrong. He was now standing right above the water in the middle of the Lake. He reached down and felt the water – it was exactly how it was supposed to be. It felt perfectly real. Nevertheless, he could walk over it as easily as if it was solid ground. He looked around; every single detail was flawless – the trees, every building in the nearby castle, the benches. Everything was exactly how he remembered it. Then, without warning, something caught his attention completely.

_Do you see, Harry?_

For the second time in his life, he heard a god-like voice resound throughout the entire place, but this time the voice was perfectly familiar.

_Can you understand what you're experiencing? _

"Henry, what did you do?" Harry asked, still completely shocked and confused. Suddenly he was not standing above the Hogwarts Lake but on a beautiful Caribbean beach, and then he was standing on top of a skyscraper in a huge city. Every time this happened all the sensations he felt – what he saw, heard, felt physically – were exactly as they would be in real life.

_This is just to give you an idea of the extent of our abilities. In our very blood, unique powers beyond magic exist…_

As the voice went on to explain, the settings around Harry continued to change dramatically, without warning, and so realistically every time that it was already maddening.

_You are now in an artificial world controlled completely by me, its creator. I also control every sensation you experience, which will be exactly as it would feel in the real world. This combines a vampire's ability to ensnare or cause a victim to enter a hypnotic state and a wizard's magical power. No usual wizard spell can compare to it. _

Next second he was floating in the middle of the ocean, a little scared when he felt himself sinking so suddenly before he began to swim instinctively.

_When mastered, the places created can become as real as the ones you see now. This way the victim can't tell between illusion and reality… _

…Harry was now in the middle of a desert, completely dry and feeling its scorching heat…

_This is why the spell to force the person into this artificial world is called Demonic Illusion, or _Diabolus Ludere_, its incantation. It does not require a wand and it can also be cast non-verbally, depending on the user's abilities. _

…Harry was in the middle of a snowstorm, feeling like he was freezing to death…but each setting changed before he could completely process what he was feeling, yet he was able to listen and understand perfectly what Henry was saying to him…

_A day spent here equals a second in the real world. _

Harry was back where he had started; standing on top of the Hogwarts Lake. He knelt on the water beneath him, feeling dizzy at the abrupt changes of environment. He was shocked and excited, but also amazed. He had no idea that being what he was could give him such abilities, ones he could not compare to anything by magical standards.

_With __**you, **__however, since you're only in the first stage of your transformation, using this power too much will drain your magical energy. But if you use the spell with moderation, it will strengthen you significantly. _

"Show me how this is done," pleaded Harry. It was the first thing he managed to say amongst his mixed emotions - determination being the strongest one. "Please, Henry, show me how to use my powers. I'll take the risks."

The voice laughed softly and it bounced off eerily between the illusionary mountains.

_I see you are finally ready._

"Yes, I am," said Harry with certainty, his sense of purpose very clear. "I need it!"

At last, Henry Cunningham materialized right in front of Harry, standing above the water as if this was perfectly natural.

"Good," Henry said with his usual mischievous smirk, his voice still unusually powerful but originating only from his body instead of all around the place. "At last you're acting like a worthy fledgling."

* * *

After the extensive training session, in which Harry was taught not only how to cast a Demonic Illusion on another person but also how to use vampiric magical powers like levitating – which made him desire strength even more, so he could actually fly - and a great amount of wandless magic, he closed and re-opened his eyes like Henry told him.

Immediately, he found himself on the same spot he had been - what now felt - days ago.

All around him, everything returned to how it was before, as the students "unfroze" and continued whatever they had been doing. Near to him he heard books crash on the floor and a male voice swearing. He saw the girl on his side finally stand from the bench and walk away. He watched as everyone went on with their ordinary day as if absolutely nothing had happened, which for a few moments made him feel lost and confused after all he had experienced and learned. Then his thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

"Harry!" someone called at him. He looked over the entrance of the stairs - it was Hermione, who was standing next to Neville and Seamus.

"Hurry up, Harry," she urged. "We'll be late for Potions!"

* * *

_They speak of me as if I'm an object…a mere ingredient, but an important one at that. They have not hurt me once since I've been here. Why?_

She could only laugh at those foolish thoughts that had been on her mind the day before.

Many miles away, Ginny Weasley was lying sprawled on top of a very large bed surrounded with thin, elegant curtains, covered in blood, and staring off into space. She had fallen asleep despite the pain she still felt from the deep wounds she had - wounds that had not been healed with magic only because of cruelty – and the discomfort of the blood on her body.

But the exhaustion she felt after the nightmare she lived the night before had caused her to doze off as soon as she felt the comfortable mattress, as if expecting to wake up and find herself in Hogwarts again. The contradiction made by her surroundings was maddening. She was a golden prize kept like a princess taken hostage – she was left inside the room of a very high tower of what she assumed must be a castle - yet injured terribly. Over and over, images of what happened to her many hours ago kept coming back to her against her will.

_It had been the worst experience of her life. _

_She was placed on top of a marble altar, cursed so she wouldn't move a muscle. All she could see was the huge full moon above her and the terrible hooded figures standing all around, the worst of which was always right next to her throughout the entire ghastly blood ritual. On the ground around them, an ancient rune with the shape of a hexagram was drawn, and in each point stood a different hooded Death Eater holding a horrified victim; all of them young, all of them female, just like her. The seventh victim was floating above her upside down, as if suspended with an invisible rope._

_But why was she kept alive when the others weren't?_

_A terrible, cold and harsh voice, spoke long incantations she could not understand, as blood flowed everywhere along with the screams of the helpless victims, whose throats were tore open so their blood fell inside the rune. She could only watch in horror as the corpses fell on the ground and as an eerie reddish light glowed on the edges of the rune and appeared to enter Lord Voldemort's body. _

_Then, without warning, from above her came a shower of warm liquid: fresh blood from the victim floating above her. She screamed, and the figures laughed sadistically. Her arms were cut so her blood would fall on the middle of the rune, but the wounds were not fatal. She bled so much she almost passed out. The pain was incredible, but the wounds had been covered with cloth to keep her alive. She vaguely remembered the light dramatically changing color as her blood fell on the ground._

_Then she heard a fanatical voice cry out near the end, "May the first of the Three conclude with power and Greatness! May this power be bestowed upon our Lord!"_

_What happened from that point on had been a confusing blur._

She had barely been conscious when she was carried back to her tower and locked up in her room again. She didn't have any notion of time. The only thing she knew when she awoke and became completely conscious again was that the weather did nothing to improve her depressive mood and her feeling of helplessness. A fierce storm had apparently come to haunt her stay in a place filled with these hellish fiends. As she watched the rain outside her window and heard the sound of thunder, she could only think:

_Where are Harry and the others now? Is this storm affecting them too, just like it is in this place I'm in? _

Then the weakness in her body forced her into sleep again.

* * *

That night, a large group of masked and robed Death Eaters walked across one of the long corridors of the magically enhanced Riddle Manor, their footsteps echoing through the walls. As they got closer to the room where their meeting was taking place, they took off the masks that concealed their faces. In the middle of the group was the youngest of them all - blonde, pale and smirking with satisfaction; Draco Malfoy.

"So, my children have come to bring me good news, I expect," said Lord Voldemort to his assembled followers, who stood in a half circle before him.

"Yes, my Lord," answered the woman who stood beside Draco, her eyes glowing fanatically as always. "The ones in charge of the girl have taken care of her and they inform the progress is fast. She will return to her previous health and strength before the next ritual."

"Good. And the school?"

"I have already been declared its Deputy Headmaster, my Lord," said the sneering voice of Severus Snape. "Our young one has succeeded and there are no suspicions regarding the cause of the witch's death, which has been declared natural."

"As expected," replied Voldemort in his usual cold, unconcerned voice. "Now we are one step away from an important goal of mine, a goal that has been sought for centuries. Only the old man stands in our way. You _do _understand, Draco-" Voldemort was now addressing the teenager directly, who therefore felt forced to bow respectfully. "-how badly you need to succeed?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"The first two tasks were only to test you," Voldemort sneered unpleasantly. "It is this next one that really counts. Fail now and you have will suffer the consequences."

"Yes, My Lord." Draco's voice was monotone, robot-like. He could barely stand looking at those blood red eyes that were so close to him now. hHe wanted very badly to get away from them.

"However, complete this most important deed I've given you, and I will allow you the honor of witnessing the great Final Ritual," said the Dark Lord with air of grandeur.

Draco bowed again, trying to look as honored as possible, yet he concealed his mind completely when the thought crossed his mind uncontrollably: _Why should _I _care about your stupid blood ritual? Go kill the old Muggle lover yourself, you filthy half-blood!_

A short while later, the Death Eaters were dismissed.

The Death Eaters left the manor in their usual fashion, filled with pride and arrogance as they walked toward the spot where they apparated back to their destinations. None of them expected in the least that they were being watched by someone who's new life ambition was to eliminate all of them. Their stalker was sitting on the roof of the old manor, hidden within the shadows caused by the tall, thick trees that surrounded it and well out of their sight. As soon as he saw them, a hungry looking smile appeared on Harry Potter's young face, and he held up his wand.

"_Ostendo umbra," _he whispered.

The tip of his wand was dimly lit with a pure white light. As he moved it to point at the hooded figures below, the color changed dramatically; with each person there was a specific shade of color, which varied significantly from one to another. This way he observed the shade of their unique magical auras.

_Now…let's see which one of you gets my attention. _

The thought had come only seconds before one of the figures made its fatal mistake; it spoke to another loudly, its imperious voice immediately recognizable. The stalker's bloodthirsty grin grew significantly. Now, more than ever, he was dying to finally use all he had recently gained and learned.

_Luck has been on my side. Tonight it will be exactly the opposite for you, Bellatrix Lestrange._

He pointed the wand at her and studied the exact shade of the color of her aura. Then he pointed it at the map and whispered, "_Insideo"_, and a moving dot of the same color appeared inside it, indicating his target's exact location. He watched as she dissaparated and, at last, with a rush of excitement, the place where her dot had reappeared within the map.

* * *

The sound of thunder echoed through the night.

Harry Potter descended unto the corner of the large, abandoned looking mansion's roof, landing on it with a grace that could never be achieved by a human being. The end of the long, black coat he wore moved behind him like a cape, billowing in the fierce wind of the storm. As still a gargoyle this figure looked from afar. He was looking down at the entrance of the mansion and observed everything carefully. He was closely listening to the thoughts and spoken words, patiently waiting like an animal stalking its prey. He wanted to savor every second of that moment, the feeling of intense anticipation for what he planned to do next. His black hair, wet with the rain, fell over his bright green eyes as he waited.

Harry watched the two Death Eaters as they entered the mansion and was amused by the unswayable trust they had in their power. They were completely sure no one could possibly hurt _them._ He smiled mentally, because only his eyes moved as they followed his targets.

He could hear Henry's voice from within his recent memory: _Think about all the innocent lives you'll save if you end theirs._

Harry's resolve only strengthened with each passing moment.

When they finally went inside, he concentrated on their movements. He could tell where in the house they were at all times. He did not know or care how long he waited. When they finally separated, he stood up and walked slowly, patiently, across the ceiling of the mansion. The emotion in him was growing and deep within his soul something was transforming. He couldn't think of anything other than what he was going to do at that moment. He reached the spot he knew was above the room he wanted to enter. He stood on the edge of the ceiling and floated down discreetly and stayed next to the window, steady in midair. He patiently waited for the right moment to stike.

A moment later, he sensed only the presence of Mr. Lestrange inside.

"Alright, Bella," he heard the man call out to his wife, who was in another room across the hall. "Just give me a moment…"

Mr. Lestrange was in one of his favorite rooms, filled with rows and rows of ancient and valuable texts, all about his favorite Dark Magic subjects. He was searching for something among a pile of parchments and books, completely distracted for a moment, until he heard the distinct sound of something falling on the floor. Instinctively, he turned toward the source of the sound with his wand raised. He frowned slightly as he realized that what had fallen was an empty candleholder that had been placed near the window, which was now completely open. He stared at it in surprise, clearly remembering it being locked from the inside seconds ago, and for a moment he was strangely ensnared by the movement of the curtains as the wind and drops of rain came inside the room. He felt the cold night air on his face.

Suddenly he felt great tension. He wanted to move to the window and close it, he wanted to find out what happened, but for some reason he was unable to move. His arm stayed exactly the same as before, holding the wand that was still pointing at the window.

"Darling," came Bellatrix's voice from the nearby room. "What was that?"

"Nothing, something fell, I'll be there in a minute," he heard himself. More tension; he could no longer control what he said.

"Okay," replied Bellatrix with indifference.

Only his Death Eater self kept him away from fear. What was going on? He couldn't move, he couldn't say what he wanted to say, no matter what he tried. He thought some incantations for non-verbal releasing spells, but it was useless. He could only compare the way he felt to being hit by a Stunning Spell, but he knew that wasn't the case because there had been no light, no sound, only that of the rain and cold wind coming in, and the slow eerie movement of the curtains. Even the thunder had ceased for the moment.

Then he felt the room become increasingly darker as the wind extinguished the candles inside it. The only light in the room came from the moon, through the window, and the other lights from the outside corridor.

It was then when his Death Eater courage abandoned him. Something had materialized before him, a dark silhouette amongst the shadow next to the window, as if it came from the shadows themselves. He could hear himself gasp inside his mind because now he couldn't make even the tiniest movement, not even blink. The room became more unfocused as the silhouette before him came closer and closer, gliding in a manner that greatly frightened him. Only when it was standing right in front of him, inches away, could he tell the thing had the shape of a human being, a young male with unusually bright green eyes to be precise, and he was wearing a twisted smirk on his face.

Mr. Lestrange didn't even have time to register who it was because before he knew it, the intruder held him harshly by the shoulders and painfully bit his neck.

Mr. Lestrange felt like a powerful hand was clutching his heart, and the pressure was so awesome he thought he could feel it explode. Throughout his entire body, he felt something being pulled out of him with unnatural force, as if this being holding him could literally suck in every inch of his body after it had turned to liquid. On the other hand, the being that attacked him received only the pleasure of drinking delicious, magically powerful blood along with a large amount of memories, some of which contained valuable information about the Death Eaters. After all, Mr. Lestrange was part of Voldermort's Inner Circle. The vampire chuckled eerily – evidently pleased – while he continued to drink the man's blood.

The victim's eyes were wide open with a mixture of horror and shock, and then as suddenly as everything else, the image of the opened window faded and everything around him darkened even more. He could not think but was barely conscious; he knew that only a thread of life was keeping him on the earth.

Just when Bellatrix Lestrange was overcoming an urge to check on her husband, she clearly heard him groan in pain.

"Darling?" she called out as she stood from the king-sized bed on the other room. She took her wand from the bedside table and walked toward her husband's favorite room. "You alright?" she asked very loudly. When there was no reply, she braced herself and held her wand before her as she slowly approached the room and went inside.

_"Merlin, why are all the lights off? What happened_?" she asked herself, not allowing herself to feel a second of fear, and with a wave of her wand the candles inside the room were lit again. Against her will, she loudly gasped.

A figure wearing hooded black garments was standing in the middle of the room, holding the limp body of her fallen husband by the collar of his robes. She saw that his neck had a very deep tear and all of it was covered in blood, as well as his clothes and the floor underneath him. She also realized that she had been put under some type of spell, because no matter how much she tried, she couldn't move an inch. Her arm was lifted and her wand pointed almost directly at the intruder, but she couldn't do a thing.

"Evening, Bellatrix," the intruder said to her in a cold, quiet voice. "It's been a while since we last met."

"Who the hell are you?" screamed Bellatrix, somehow able to break from the spell enough to say what she wanted.

The figure laughed softly and, with his free hand, took the hood off. The first thing Bellatrix noticed was the expression of fierce anger behind the malevolent smirk. But when she actually saw who it was, Bellatrix had to blink a couple of times to make sure she was seeing correctly, then her mouth fell open with shock.

"Potter?" she spat out incredulously.

"Tell me, Bellatrix. Did you feel my hatred the last time I tried to get even with you?" asked the young wizard with a cold, hateful voice. And yet, his expression suddenly became deceivingly innocent. Even as she watched her nearly dead husband, Bellatrix cackled at the intruder in her usual cruel manner, disregarding his power over them both.

"You are just a weakling, Potter," growled Bellatrix. "That was absolutely _nothing!_ You're pathetic!"

Now it was he who laughed at her; a menacing, equally cruel laugh that surprised her completely. "Good. Because you haven't yet felt an _ounce_ of my hate for you," he growled back.

Slowly, Harry closed his eyes, and the ground shook as in a small earthquake. Then he opened them, their color suddenly blood red, and he said with a monotone voice:

_"Diabolus Ludere."_

Immediately she felt her heart give one very explosive, strong beat and her smirk was instantly wiped away. His eyes had become two red lights, brighter than even her Master's eyes when he was furious, and then the world transformed within a split second.

For a moment, everything was black and Bellatrix seemed to be floating in the middle of space, as she could not feel the floor beneath her. Then she felt the force of gravity pull her down the unending, dark abyss below, and she had gone backwards, speeding headfirst toward an unseen place. She could do nothing but scream in great surprise and fear, and again she felt like her heart will nearly burst. She fell and fell without any indication of when it was going to end, for an unidentified period of time.

Then, without warning, she felt like every bone in her body had been crushed; she had fallen hard against what seemed like an invisible floor. She screamed in agony, the pain so excruciatingly real that it took her a long time to realize what her surroundings were.

It was a place so unnatural looking that she immediately thought, "_This has to be an illusion." _It looked like a desert, the ground was hard and dry, but the colors were all mixed up. The ground was as black as the abyss she had just fallen through, and the sky was as red as the eyes she had just seen.

_Oh no, dear Bella, this is not merely an illusion._

The intruder's voice resounded loudly throughout the entire place; it was cold and detached, filled with malice. She was shaking all over.

_The pain you will feel is very real. _

She blinked and next thing she knew she was standing up, unable to move, and surrounded by large mirrors in every direction. Then she suddenly burst into flames. Again she screamed in agony but still could not move an inch, just like before, and she could only stare at her own body as it was made into a living torch. She saw her own wide, terrified eyes and her mouth wide open as she continued to scream. She saw that her hair had been burnt away and her flesh had become black.

_You've always loved torturing people. Why?_

The flames became blue and the pain intensified dramatically.

_I want to find out._

She could only shriek at the top of her lungs; the pain was excruciating, worse than any painful curse she's ever endured, even her Master's cruciatus. Then without warning, the fire abruptly disappeared.

She was breathing very heavily, struggling with the ache she still felt. Then she gasped; on the mirrors she saw that she actually looked just as she did before being burned. Before she allowed herself the comfort of realizing this, however, the fire reappeared to torment her for what seemed like hours on end, only to disappear again, and then come back.

Once in a while, she observed her own flesh melt away after getting covered with a liquid substance that felt like very strong acid. As she screamed she saw her face disintegrate until her eyes fell out of their sockets. She thought she endured this agony for a very long time – the fire and acid appearing and disappearing continually - before she was allowed to stay there just breathing heavily for a while, sobbing like a child because of her agony, staring at her own pathetic, disgraceful reflection. After what felt like an eternity, she heard the voice again.

_What's wrong, Bellatrix? _

The familiar youthful, amused voice sounded very out of place.

_Want a change of environment?_

Again she blinked and next thing she knew, she was hanging in the air by the neck, and the place around her swirled around in shades of red and black. She was being strangled by whatever was tied to her, and her hands could not move from her side. She could only choke painfully and watch in horror as a figure suddenly materialized in front of her carrying a very long sword.

The boy she had always thought as "baby Potter" was smirking at her maliciously as he slowly approached his choking victim, until he was inches away from her. He placed the tip of the sword on her face as he spoke, his voice now coming from his own body but still sounding much more powerful than normal.

"You thought about your beloved Master's cruciatus before, did you not?" Harry asked her, now grinning, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Your favorite spell, isn't it, the Cruciatus? It causes the victim to feel a combination of awful sensations - burning, stabbing, having their bones crushed and their insides twisted…which ones were your favorites?"

He dove the sword into her stomach and she screamed and growled like an angry animal, apparently because of the mention of her worshipped Master. Then her attacker turned the sword around in circles inside her and laughed when she screamed much louder.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he taunted her. "Although…I reckon this isn't even close to the pain you've inflicted on others so many times."

A second later, every single inch of space Bellatrix could see was occupied by an exact clone of her attacker. All around her were the same smirking expressions holding identical swords; she knew there must be hundreds of them, and that in reality it wouldn't be possible for them to fit there together. She barely had time to process what she saw when, together, these swords flew with incredible force toward her. She felt hundreds of swords stabbing her continually in every inch of her body, making her feel like she had been cut entirely and made into a living pulp. What she felt was beyond unbearable. The clones reappeared every once in a while only to dive at her again the same way. She could feel, not only her body deteriorating, but also the sanity that was left in her mind dissapearing. Then she heard the voice again, god-like and bodiless:

_It's only been a few hours, Bellatrix!_

Its tone was, as always, mockful and malicious. She was still wailing madly, yelling incoherently.

_Shouldn't you be able to take some more, Death Eater? You still have a couple of days left._

"Days?"

She had no idea how she had managed to actually say something clearly. Her own voice scared her; it sounded extremely weak. For many, many long hours, her own screams was all she could hear. She had long been past the point of trying to endure it. With increasing shame, she begged for it to stop, which only made the voice reappear, laughing at her.

* * *

Mr. Lestrange groaned loudly.

The figure that attacked him had released him and now he was lying on the floor, barely conscious, looking up at his wife with hope that she could save him. She had entered the room just in time, holding out her wand and wearing her usual brave expression. But only moments after her conversation with the intruder, he saw her eyes widen with shock and she had screamed louder than he had ever heard her scream before. He watched in horror as she fell on her knees and then collapse on the floor. She was shaking and twitching violently, convulsing, her eyes unfocused.

"B – Bella?" Mr. Lestrange croaked fearfully, barely managing to speak because of the pain it caused him to do so. Then, without warning, he was covered in flames.

The intruder simply stood there, watching the burning, screaming body for a while and then the other helpless – but still living – body of Bellatrix. She was apparently trying to stay in fetal position, her expression depicting terror beyond comprehension and sheer madness.

When Harry approached her, she instinctively tried to conceal her face behind her arms and she wailed like a child about to get beaten. He smiled playfully at her.

"Awww…poor little baby Bellatrix still feels pain?" Harry sneered, using the same horrible, extremely annoying baby-talk voice she had often used on him.

Bellatrix wailed again and pressed her head against the floor, covering with her arms and mumbling hysterically and incoherently. Killing her would mean he would show her mercy she did not deserve.

He laughed at her for a while before he left the burning room.

As he walked away from the manor, he looked back at the flames coming from the room's windows and smiled again. He knew that soon enough, someone would come – whomever that might be – and the destiny of the loathsome Bellatrix Lestrange will be decided.

* * *

By the time he finally crossed the Hogwarts grounds, Harry Potter knew it had been unwise to use _diabolus ludere _for so long and immediately regretted ignoring what Henry had told him. He already felt in the most obvious way that he had been almost completely drained of both magical power and physical energy. He was so exhausted he knew he probably couldn't walk back to his common room without collapsing. However, as he approached the Gryffindor Tower, from outside he noticed one of the windows was open. Relieved, he stood very close to the wall right below it, facing it, and raised his wand. He would have to use the last bit of magical energy he had left...

"_Ascendio."_

Harry rose into the air rapidly. Instantly he was annoyed that it was still raining because the drops hit him now harder than ever and it was almost painful. When he reached the window he extended his arms, held on to the edges as strongly as he could, and pulled himself toward it. He landed inside the room much less gracefully than normal, knees buckling slightly, and then he threw himself on the nearest armchair. He rested his face against the cushion, staring out of the window at the storm, and didn't even bother to look inside the common room. He was soaked so much that, for a few moments, all he could hear was the water falling from his long coat unto the floor, and the rain falling outside.

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Harry. Where on earth were you?"

Harry knew the voice perfectly well but it didn't motivate him to move an inch. What the person said, however, made him chuckle.

"Why do you still think time matters to me anymore, Hermione?"

He could sense she was approaching, but then she suddenly stopped and took out her wand.

"_Muffliato."_

There was a sudden flash of white light as it created a circle around her and Harry. For a moment it looked like a bubble but then it became invisible; no one would hear their voices. When she noticed he hadn't reacted or moved at all, her worry only increased. She tentatively approached him.

"Harry," she pleaded. "I know something's wrong. You've been acting very weird lately…in the last few days, I mean…"

No reply.

She was standing right next to his armchair. "And…I saw you leave that night the two Death Eaters died, Harry…I didn't want to think about it at first, but-" She trailed off, suddenly looking nervous. When he said nothing, she went on, her tone very sad. "It's…been my fault, hasn't it? I was the one who made you drink. And now you've been hunting humans for blood, haven't you?"

After another silent pause, Harry sighed. "Yes," he whispered.

No matter how much she had expected it, actually hearing him admit what he had been doing horrified her. Her throat felt tight and her heart ached with guilt and sadness. She had to wait a while before she was able to speak again.

"So…it was you?" she asked nervously. "You killed those two Death Eaters?"

Harry chuckled again mirthlessly, then finally turned his head and looked at her. He didn't speak. The response was there, in his gaze. As she studied him, the coldness in his eyes immediately traumatized her; it was like looking at a dark abyss - she could see none of the usual spark in them. She felt a stab of horror; the look in them only confirmed what she had feared.

"What has gotten into you?" she cried, suddenly angry. "Those are not your eyes! They're the eyes of a killer! You did it, didn't you? You killed those Death Eaters! Look at you, I can tell you've drained yourself magically. Who did you do in tonight that left you so exhausted?"

"Stop it," Harry warned, his gaze still cold.

"You've gained power somehow. Tell me what you've done!" she begged. Her voice was shaky and she looked on verge of tears, but his expression as he looked at her was the same, which alarmed her.

"Why do you ask, clever witch? You said you already know," he said coldy, then added, "Go on, tell them. Tell Dumbledore and the Order, if that's what you want."

She became paralyzed and Harry was surprised to see her so indignant – the most he had ever seen her in his life, worse than when she had been called a Mudblood. When she got closer to him, however, nothing could have prepared him for what she did next.

She slapped him hard across the face.

He froze, holding that side of his face, which had turned sideways with the force of the blow. Simply feeling the small stab of pain momentarily shattered his state of great apathy. It was as if a small flame had burned a fraction of the intense coldness that had taken over him. Only seconds had passed when he was surprised yet again.

He felt her body fall on his as she threw her arms around him, sitting on his lap and holding him in a very tight embrace. He could feel her shaking with silent sobs, and without thinking, he was holding her back. The warmth of her body against his seemed to melt away that thick veil that had covered his mind entirely moments before. For a while, he felt like he was coming back to his senses, and for only a moment, he almost felt remorse, holding tighter to her and burying his face on her bushy hair, releasing some of his tension as well. However, unlike her, he seemed unable to sob, and what he felt was dim, weak, distant…

"How could I _ever _do that?" she responded later on, exasperated, her voice a small cry. She held him tighter and then her emotional voice became louder. "When will you understand? I'll _always _be by your side, no matter what!"

* * *

The next day, Bellatrix Lestrange was taken to her bed in the corner of her separate and temporary room. The curtains surrounding it were open. She was to remain there until the Ministry decided what to do with her.

"Here you are," said a motherly looking Healer slowly and sweetly, as she made the woman sit on her bed. With the help of two others they made her lie down. The men had to hold her tightly so she wouldn't move with all her twitches as the Healer tried to inject her a calming potion, and then they were to tie her to the bed. She was clearly unable to swallow the potion with such violent movements.

"This won't hurt a bit, it's just a little sting to relax you, okay?" said the Healer, slowly and clearly.

"But the shadow!" cried Bellatrix, her mad eyes wide with fear. "It got me, it hurt me! It had red eyes! Red, like the sky!"

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay."

"Ouch, NO! It hurts!" cried Bellatrix as she felt the sting of the needle. "No more hurt, no more pain!"

"Shh, shh...it's okay, see? That was it, it's all over," said the Healer as she finished the injection, and then added with a tone that hinted sarcasm, "You are so brave..."

Bellatrix's eyes rolled a little bit and she finally stopped twitching. When the Healers saw she was calm at last, they left her there lying down on her bed, tied by the arms, legs, and waist with thick leather bands. Her entire body was so heavy she couldn't move an inch.

"The shadow…" she kept whispering weakly at the ceiling. "Pain…so much pain…"

Then she was finally quiet for a few moments.

A few minutes passed when another patient from another part of the ward slowly walked into Bellatrix's room in her nightdress, smiling brightly at something she had in her hand. She had a round, friendly looking face and white, dead-looking hair. She stood near the bed and, after a few moments, extended her hand toward the new patient and made shy little gestures.

"Hello…Here…" she whispered, her voice small and weak.

Bellatrix looked at the woman next to her, her eyes unfocused, and then felt the other hold her hand and place something inside it. She looked at it and realized it was the empty plastic wrapping of a bubble gum candy.

"A gift…for you…" said the woman sweetly, and then she suddenly had a fit of giggles.

"Thank you…." said Bellatrix as if she had recieved the most precious gift in the world.

The other woman nodded emphatically, still giggling. Then the motherly looking Healer approached them.

"Mrs. Longbottom, dear, it's time for your potions, come on," she said warmly, then held the woman gently by the arm and took her out of the room and back to the other side of the ward.

Bellatrix was smiling brightly, insanely, at the plastic wrapping in her hands as she kept whispering, "Thank you…thank you…thank you…"


	8. Night Terror

**VII - Night Terror**

* * *

Hermione's eyes suddenly became wide when the loud scream pierced through the silence. Her peaceful mindset ended abruptly and she sat upright as a wave of shock ran through her body, paralyzing her.

"What was that?" she said out loud. She wasn't sure she had heard right, but soon fear encompassed her; she realized that she was completely alone in the room she had always shared with five other students. She had been too concentrated on what she had been reading to notice that before. She also couldn't hear a single sound or feel the presence of anyone else on that floor of the girls' dormitory, which was always noisy and crowded at 7:00p.m. She had no time to think about this, however. A few seconds later, she unmistakably heard it again; a horrible, terrified cry of pain. She threw aside her book and, summoning all her courage, ran out of the bedroom and into the corridor.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she ran through the corridor and down the stairs. She was too quick to even notice that the other bedrooms had been empty as well, and way too soon she found herself standing in front of the stairs looking at an unusually dark common room. The fact that no light was turned on would have surprised her on any other circumstance, but it was the atmosphere of the room that numbed her with fear, along with what she could see even amongst the darkness.

There were silhouettes of people all over the floor, along with large shadows on the floor between them and in the walls. For a moment she was in denial and, despite the growing dread, she took out her wand and made some of the lights appear on that part of the room. A loud, terrified gasp escaped her lips.

Familiar faces stared at her through wide eyes as they lay on the floor, sprawled, covered in brilliant crimson. The sight almost made her faint; she was looking at a parchment white Ron Weasley, the one nearest to her, and she couldn't bear to see the deep cuts all over him, like he had been attacked by some wild animal. The scarlet Gryffindor walls were stained with splashes of a similar color, and as she managed to move in her stupefied state, she discovered that there were probably fifty Gryffindors in the same state as Ron. Some lay on top of others, some were thrown on armchairs and on top of tables, all displaying deep cuts on their pale bodies.

What she saw was too ghastly for her to tolerate, yet she walked on, speechless, toward the corner of the room where the fireplace was. That part was still dark but she could tell that two people were there; one body was floating upside down in midair, and the other was kneeling under it, but she couldn't tell who it was or what they were doing. She slowly approached the pair, trying to point her wand at the kneeling figure with trembling hands.

Then, without warning, the kneeling figure cackled. The sound pierced through the silence as abruptly as the previous scream of pain, and she was rooted to the floor.

"Blood...warm blood," she heard the figure whisper in a creepy, malicious voice. "So delicious...but not as much as yours...Hermione..."

The fireplace suddenly burst with flames and the sight in front of her became crystal clear. This time the horrified scream came from her.

"_GINNY_!" yelled Hermione hysterically as waves of complete terror moved throughout her body, which could no longer sustain her so she fell on her knees. She was staring at her closest female friend, who was wounded almost beyond recognition, as her blood flowed through her body and down, like little waterfalls, unto the other person's body. The person below her was smiling brightly, insanely, as he took some of the liquid that fell on his hands and pressed it against his mouth, drinking it greedily. His face and clothes were stained all over with red.

Hermione knew her mouth was hanging open completely, but somehow, it had moved.

"Harry..." Hermione whispered, aghast, as she looked at her best friend. She couldn't gather words that could express what she felt. The look on his face frightened her as much as the scene around her. He savored the blood on his lips while he looked at Hermione, his eyes twinkling with pleasure and malice.

"Why so surprised, my friend?"

That was not his voice anymore, she thought. She was trembling with silent sobs as she looked at Ginny.

"This can't be true," Hermione cried, shaking her head. "This can't be happening."

"Why not?" asked the wizard-vampire playfully, and he smiled even more.

Millions of thoughts and emotions raced through her at the same time, confusing her, but one particular feeling prevailed. Hermione felt the warm tears running down her face. "It's all my fault...all my fault..." Her voice was small and weak. "Why did I do it? How could I be so stupid?"

"Don't feel sorry. Above all, you should be _delighted!" _

The killer's tone of excitement forced her to look at him. He stood next to the floating body, still smiling, chuckling softly, when she felt the room become unnaturally windy and the floor shake. She was even more shocked when she realized that, as her best friend spoke, his appearance kept changing.

"You, my dearest, have shown me how to succeed..." His eyes had become like two red flames. "With every drop I drink, I gain power..." His hair was growing longer and turning very shiny. "You have done me the greatest favor. I could not be more grateful. For that reason, Hermione..." His skin was getting whiter and his nails longer; he was lifting his hands toward her, arms wide open. "...I love you."

Before she knew it, his face was inches away from hers, and he held her in a tight embrace. She was pressed against him so tightly, she couldn't move. The blood on his face, the blood of his deceased friends, deeply disturbed her. But an overwhelming lust was taking over her, even as she looked at the strange red eyes and the face she could barely recognize. Only the voice was the same as before.

"You are precious to me," the creature said to her passionately. "That's why I must have you..." His expression changed within seconds and his voice again became malicious, frightening. "You are mine, beautiful girl...you are _mine_."

The lusty feeling was gone as soon as she felt him hold her neck harshly and a truly savage, hungry look appeared on his face. She was horrified even more than before.

"NO!" Hermione screamed. Harry was baring much larger fangs. She struggled with all her strength, but it was completely useless. In a second she felt something very sharp tear her throat very painfully, way too painfully for it to be pleasurable. Her loud screams were obstructed with the attack and she kicked and punched as much as she could, fighting for her life. The pain was too real, too horrible, but all she could do was scream.

"HERMIONE! _Hermione!_"

The voice seemed to come from within her, but all around her at the same time. It didn't belong there, it didn't make sense...then she felt someone shake her forcefully.

"Wake up, girl!"

Someone was yelling at her almost hysterically. It was a very familiar perky voice, and as she opened her eyes and abruptly sat up, reality began to slowly sink in. She saw the faces of Parvati Patil, who was holding her shoulder, Lavander Brown and Ginny Weasley, all standing around her bed and staring at her. Disoriented, she glanced at the redhead and cried, "Ginny...you're alright!"

"Er...yeah, why wouldn't I?" replied Ginny rather coldly. Hermione had immediately hugged her but she disentangled herself just as quickly. The other two girls frowned at the indifferent redhead.

"I...I..." stuttered Hermione, still shaking.

"It was just a dream, Hermione, it's okay," said Lavander gently, as if talking to a child. Hermione's mind gained awareness and she was suddenly annoyed at the situation. Only then did she realize she was bathed in sweat.

"I'm really sorry," she said with embarrassment.

"Don't apologize, for Merlin's sake!" cried Parvati. "It happens to everyone..."

A feeling of intense relief prevailed above all others at that moment. All she could think as she caught her breath was '_Thank Merlin it was just a dream.' _

Ginny was giggling. "That was odd. You were screaming at the top of your lungs."

"I think she knows that now, Ginny," reprimanded Lavender, looking at Ginny in disbelief and with narrowed, disapproving eyes.

"Well, it's good that you're fine," answered the red head simply, completely ignoring the looks the others were giving her. She picked up her school bag and headed for the door. Then she suddenly stopped and turned back to the others. "Oh, and Hermione..." She smiled brightly and awkwardly at Hermione and said, "I'll see you downstairs!" Right after she left, the other girls exchanged confused expressions.

"That Ginny," sneered Parvati. "She's sure acting weird lately."

"Yeah, tell me about it!" complained Lavender. "The other day after Potions class..."

Hermione was still so traumatized by the nightmare that she was completely ignoring the other girls as she got dressed for school. Her heart was still beating fast. But with every moment, the details of the dream faded away until she could only vaguely remember what it had been, and instead the weight of worry began to enfold her. As soon as she thought about Harry she remembered something important. She finished getting dressed, took a copy of _Advanced Magical Remedies_ from her overcrowded bookshelf, and left the room.

* * *

Down in the common room, the girl all knew as Ginny Weasley was walking confidently toward her first destination. She was smiling and her expression denoted a pride none could have understood.

"_Ha_," she thought to herself. "_This will be easy for me. They'll see. I'll show Master what I can -_"

"BAAAAABY!"

There was no warning. Seconds after hearing the scream Fake Ginny found herself trapped in a tight embrace and someone's lips were crushed against hers. Instinctively, she summoned all her strength and pushed off the person. People around could have heard the sound of knuckles hitting flesh as she hit the other hard on the face. "WHAT THE HELL?" she cried indignantly. Then she froze in horror for an instant; her masculinity had slipped out.

Everyone was staring at her. She tried as much as possible to look like a teenage girl might, giggling nervously at them all. "Oops, my bad...got confused there..." She had a plastic smile on her face and she just turned and was going to leave but bumped into someone. She looked up and could barely suppress a gasp; the face was too familiar.

"You alright, Ginny?" asked the round-faced boy. "What was that?"

"Um..." She was at a lost for words. She was too distracted as she thought about the boys' parents, the Longbottoms, and what had happened to them; what she (he, Barty Crouch) among other Death Eaters, had done to them. Then someone tapped her shoulder harshly. She turned and saw the deeply offended face of the boy who had just "attacked" her.

"What the bloody hell's wrong with you?" he sneered angrily at her, then walked away massaging his injured face.

The Longbottom boy was staring incredulously at her. "Why'd you hit Dean for?"

She was boiling angrily inside. "_I was doing so well. Damn these bastards. Damn this little slut I have to impersonate."_

"Well...just forget about it," she told the boy dismissively and went right past him toward the exit. The boy stayed there transfixed and puzzled, staring back at the girl he thought he knew so well.

* * *

As Harry looked at his hand, he noticed his skin was getting paler each day. He assumed he would have to do something about it soon, even if he honestly didn't care what others might think. This was evident in part by the ring he wore proudly on his index finger; a ring he had recovered from his mother's secret place. It displayed very clearly the Mordorgoth family crest on it - a circle composed by one snake devouring its tail, with three bolts of lightning inside - which was a symbol everyone in the magical world could recognize. After all, the Mordorgoths were one of the most famous pureblood families - but they were also one of the most misunderstood. He knew all along this was one of those families the ignorant majority would label as a family of "Dark Wizards", which he thought was absolutely ridiculous.

In a matter of days, the knowledge of his heritage had spread throughout the school, and then to the wizarding world as a whole. It amused Harry to hear all the theories and speculations of him - everything from his role in the war to his survival of the Killing Curse - all on account of his heritage. He was surprised that Dumbledore and the Order hadn't approached him already.

Meanwhile, he simply sat there peacefully on the table, waiting for his Defense Against the Dark Arts class to begin, completely ignoring all the looks people gave him as they settled into the classroom. Soon after professor Lupin entered the room, he felt Hermione sit beside him.

Harry looked at her and he was suddenly alarmed. "'Mione, are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern. She looked sick, like she hadn't slept at all that night, but in response she only nodded and gestured that she was fine. The professor had asked for silence; the class had begun. It went by normally until halfway through the lecture, Professor Flitwick stopped by to give an announcement.

"It has been decided that this term's mandatory Dueling Examination will take place this Thursday."

Immediately there was tense whispering all over the classroom, and Hermione gave Harry an apprehensive look. "_Two days sooner!" _she thought. _"Oh, no. What are we going to do?" _The thought of Harry attempting to pass the exam using _Windgardium Leviosa_ frightened her. If his magical exhaustion was known...

Harry was smirking at her. He could hear her thoughts as clearly as if she had spoken out loud. He gathered a considerate amount of his mind power and directed it at Hermione.

_Don't worry about it._

She blinked and jumped up slightly in surprise when she heard his voice inside her head, but seemingly all around her at once. He had done this to her before but she was definitely not used to the sensation.

_You know of a remedy, it'll be fine._

"I haven't -" she started out loud, without intending to - the speaking professor looked at her and she gestured apologetically.

"_Don't do that without warning me, Harry!" _she thought angrily. Knowing how well he could know her thoughts, she went on. "_I told you I know of one, but it was supposed to take exactly seven days to brew. I brought the book that contains it, I'll show it to you..." _She reached inside her book bag and took out the copy of _Advanced Magical Remedies. _She opened it on the page she had marked with a piece of parchment and placed it under her notebook so she could re-read the information as discreetly as she could. Professor Flitwick was still explaining the requirements for the Dueling Exam, which she would have normally listened closely to, but her concentration was on the book in front of her.

"_High Level Re-Vitalizing Potion to cure Magical Exhaustion...Must be brewed carefully for seven days, adding each group of ingredients separately each day..." _She skipped the extensive list of ingredients - which were separated into seven groups - and went to the detailed instructions. "..._Alternate versions of this potion can be brewed in a shorter period of time, but with different ingredients..." _She browsed the lists of ingredients of the alternate versions, trying to find the one she was sure could be brewed in time before the Dueling Exam. She felt her heart sink a little as she realized that most of the ingredients were extremely rare. "_Dragon's blood...human bone..."_ She silently gasped in alarm. "_Human bone! That's dark, how on earth will we get that?"_

She felt Harry touch her arm. "Pay attention," he pleaded with a whisper, still smirking at her. She shot him a scolding gaze and shushed him. Then she marked the paragraph she had been reading with her quill, and passed him the open book under the desk as discreetly as she could.

They waited until the class was over and the students were noisily leaving to walk out together after everyone else, whispering to each other.

"If only we could get those ingredients, this one will definitely work," said Hermione reassuringly as she stored the book inside her bag. "We just need -"

"Oh come on, It'll be easy!" interrupted Harry confidently. "I'll get them all in a second."

"_No_, Harry!" said Hermione apprehensively, gently pulling his sleeve. She looked back to make sure everyone, especially professor Lupin, was out of earshot. "You can't just leave the castle like that, trust me _they'll_ know, and I'm sure they're watching your every move."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The Order doesn't intimidate me."

"They'll suspect you. You need to be careful always, remember that's it's Dumbledore, he'll just know." She glanced at the ring on his finger as if scolding him. "Look, I'll go myself during my break today -"

"What? You're not going alone into Knockturn -"

"Shhh..." hissed Hermione and again she looked around. "We have no choice...we need to start brewing this _now. _I'll take your Invisibility cloak and go on the carriage that leaves at noon."

They made their way into one of the castle's crowded corridors, near the Great Hall, and were passing by one of the large school common rooms where many students were gathered. In the middle was one of the Wizarding projectors, composed of intertwined magic wands, and most of them were watching it attentively. It was a newscast, and as soon as Harry heard the word "Death Eaters" he immediately started walking toward the gathering.

Hermione held his arm and said, "I have to leave for class. I'll see you at dinner." She kissed his cheek and left. Harry went to stand next to some of his fellow Gryffindors and watched the reporter speaking beside images of Bellatrix Lestrange's mansion on fire and one of her Azkaban mug shots.

"_Convicted Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange has been placed today in a top-security cell in Azkaban until the Ministry Court reaches a final decision on her sentence." _Harry's heart seem to swell with happiness as he saw, next to the reporter, the image of Bellatrix, tied in a straight jacket, being dragged by Ministry officials as she struggled against them with all her strength, shrieking madly, her wild hair flying around as she moved her head violently._ "She had been found yesterday in her mansion, which was in flames, next to the ashes of her late husband. Authorities are still trying to understand what occurred and how the Death Eater had apparently been tortured into insanity, when no trace of magical activity has yet been found. Investigators have also concluded that the Lestranges were attacked and that it wasn't Bellatrix who murdered her husband..." _

"It's the Death Eater slayer again," Harry heard someone close to him whisper, and immediately he felt exhilarated. He could sense the excitement from the crowd and could tell from their thoughts in general that they believed whoever did this was a great hero.

He smiled widely.

He continued to watch the images of Bellatrix in her straight jacket and then of past Death Eater attacks she had participated in as the reporter gave some background information.

"Ludere is definitely you power," someone whispered right behind him so suddenly, he almost jumped up. He turned and saw Henry smirking at him. "Good to see you're conscious. Few would be able to after _that_." Henry gestured with his face to the Wizard projector as he said it, smiling at Harry's astonished expression. "Congratulations," he added with a wink and walked off.

Harry stared at Henry as he left for a few moments, then something else caught his attention.

Neville Longbottom was sitting alone in one of the nearby seats looking, in contrast to all the others, very gloomy. He had obviously been listening to the program like everyone else, but for some reason he looked very sad. At once Harry concentrated his powers in order to read his mind, but then Seamus Finnigan, who also looked surprised and concerned, took a seat next to Neville and patted him on the back saying, "Why so down, mate?"

Neville didn't immediately reply but stared at the television, frowning. He didn't even look at his friend as he spoke.

"I know I should be happy," he answered downheartedly, his voice so quiet Harry could only hear it because of his supernatural abilities. "But it's just..." Nevile broke off and stayed silent for a few moments, then said even more quietly, "I...wish I had been the one to avenge my parents."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise as Neville went on. "I've aspired all my life to be a better wizard so that I might do that one day. And now that can't happen." Seamus was studying his friend; he was in shock and couldn't understand Neville's feelings, but Harry knew exactly how Neville must feel and even felt a little guilty. The unnatural life he had was that of an avenger, and he couldn't even imagine how discouraged he would feel if his sole purpose was taken away from him.

Harry continued to study Neville's thoughts and emotions for a while and, after making a mental note to speak to him in private someday, he went off to his next class.

* * *

"ARGHHHH!"

Draco lay panting on the floor, grabbing his left forearm tightly, wincing with pain.

"That bastard...this bloody thing hurts!" he growled. His arm was throbbing with an intense burning sensation and he felt like he could pass out. He didn't even know where he was anymore. All he could see was a vivid scene he knew was taking place at that moment, because he was already used to what he was experiencing; Lord Voldemort had decided to communicate with all his Death Eaters in that exact moment but didn't want to wait for them.

As clearly as if he was there, Draco was looking at a strange circular room with a large altar in the middle and a huge ancient rune drawn on the floor below it. About a dozen masked and hooded Death Eaters stood in a circle around it and in the middle was the Dark Lord, pacing slowly in his usual intimidating manner as he spoke to them, pausing now and then in front of each one as he thoroughly read their minds with Legilimency.

"I was proud but now I'm disappointed again, my children." Voldemort's voice was the prototype of coldness. "Two of my strongest and most faithful have fallen. That alone is simply astonishing. But how did you all fail to come to their aid, when you all share the powerful connection I have given you? Did you decide to stay away out of fear?"

Even through the vision, Draco felt the fear the ones present were experiencing. They could only expect pain and punishment.

"No, my Lord," said one of the hooded figures in a reverent voice, the only one kneeling down. "Please forgive us. When we arrived, it had been done."

"Then you are too slow!" Voldemort replied, raising his voice dangerously. With one wave of his hand, he was armed with his wand, and with another wave, a flash of red light expanded out of it, and every single Death Eater cried out in pain. Draco felt like he had been whipped and bit back a scream with great difficulty. As he tried to ignore the pain he continued to listen, swearing under his breath, to the Dark Lord's rant. "It's impossible that Bella could have entered that state within seconds, and that is more than enough for you all to travel anywhere. Again you have given me no choice but to boost your power, which is, unfortunately, a necessity." He looked resentfully at his followers, his voice filled with anger. "Wormtail!" he screamed.

The shortest Death Eater - who was standing nearest to the altar - jumped up in surprise, obviously not expecting the Dark Lord to suddenly call out his name. "Y-yes, Master?" replied Wormtail in his usual shaky, nervous voice.

"Bring me the ingredient."

"Of course, my Lord."

Immediately Wormtail approached the tall marble altar. Only then did Draco notice there was someone lying sprawled on top of it; a familiar red headed young girl who was stained all over with blood. Her nearly unconscious body was still dripping large amounts of unusually bright scarlet, which was collecting on the edges of the altar and then ran toward its corners, like tiny rivers, to fall inside small glass containers. Wormtail took the container that was filled the most, replaced it with an empty one, and slowly approached his master. He kneeled down, head bowed, and gave him the glass.

Voldemort held up the glass and tapped it with his wand. Immediately Draco felt a tightening sensation inside, as if the core of his being was receiving a great amount of pressure. It was so strong, he found himself curled and holding his stomach tightly.

In the vision, Draco saw all the Death Eaters fall on their knees because, he assumed, they must have felt the same overwhelming pressure inside. As Voldemort whispered an incantation Draco could barely hear, he saw the familiar shade of his magical aura surface from his body, surrounding him in a reddish mist. He observed in amazement, for the second time in his life, as the shade of his aura darkened and intensified, and he enjoyed, even amongst the discomfort and pain, the feeling of his strength and power growing unnaturally.

Then he gasped when, just as suddenly, the mist simply fell back inside his body and the tightening was brusquely released. He fell back against the wall, blinking, and again he heard the Dark Lord's voice and saw the circular room.

"Great Lord, thank you!" cried out the Death Eater who had spoken to Voldemort, still on his knees. "We are honored...so honored -"

"Silence," interrupted Voldemort, coldly and menacingly. "Your feelings do not interest me, only your success. Now, my followers, go and prove to me your worthiness."

The pain in Draco's forearm intensified again as the vision that had taken over his mind became blurry and disappeared. All was darkness as he struggled with the burning and then, unexpectedly, he heard Lord Voldemort's voice inside his head.

"Malfoy. You have no excuse. Tonight it shall be done."

His head bumped against the wall as the uncomfortable feeling of having his mind possessed ended and all his surroundings became clear again. He was sitting on the floor inside one of the bathroom stalls in a boys' bathroom. He had been hit with the "communication" out of nowhere and he had collapsed. His mind was finally returning to normal and he was recalling what happened to him, when again someone's voice caught him off guard.

"My, my, Draco! Such high cost for a little power, isn't it?"

Draco recognized the mockful tone of voice immediately. He didn't even bother to look up and he said, still rubbing his eyes and throbbing head, "Oh shut up, Henry!" His tone was resentful. "It doesn't have to be that way and you know it."

Henry's soft laughter echoed inside the large, almost deserted bathroom. Draco held on to the edges of the stall and handle of the open door in order to stand up, but he was still aching with pain and the strange sensation of magical power running through his veins, so strong it was that he felt numb all over. He could only prop himself against the wall and stare at his Slytherin comrade.

Henry was casually fixing his silky hair in front of the mirror, not a care in the world evident on his handsome face. Draco tried to hide his resentment by thinking how amazing it was that a being like Henry could pull off looking and acting like an average teenager so perfectly, but he was overcome and spoke before he could stop himself.

"Why Potter, Henry? Why Potter and not me?"

Draco's tone couldn't hide any of his intense jealousy and he was immediately embarrassed.

Henry didn't look back at his companion and kept fixing himself up as he sighed. "Not that again, Draco," he answered, rolling his eyes. "How many times do I have to explain?"

"You know none of the explanations have satisfied me."

"You waste time asking those questions."

Henry turned toward Draco, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink. He looked at the young wizard and added dismissively, "You only need to know that if he wasn't the only one who could do it, I would have gotten rid of Riddle a long time ago."

"Yes, yes, I know -"

"Yes, you know, so stop asking," interrupted Henry impatiently. "It's time you seek what benefits you, and let go of petty childhood rivalries. Where is your Slytherin quality, my friend? Potter has proven his power and he's also one of the few valuable purebloods left."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Vampire and pureblood or not, he will always be Scarhead the Gryffindor in my eyes."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "I thought you had matured somewhat. You stubborn fool."

"And how exactly do you expect me to accept him _now_, after all this time, when he's just ruined my aunt forever?"

Henry chuckled. Draco's words did not match his expression, which had been for some time one of unchanging apathy. "I'm sure you are grieving for your aunt very, very much Draco, I can tell," said Henry sarcastically. Draco looked away and his eyes narrowed.

"She was bloody weak after all," Draco whispered angrily. "If Potter defeated her..."

"You speak nonsense. You have no idea whatsoever of Potter's power."

Draco's resentment was again obvious as he looked back at the other Slytherin, glaring.

"After all, you can say you're even," suggested Henry. "You _were_ the one who kidnapped one of his dear friends, who must now suffer for months."

"But she's still alive."

"Your aunt is too."

"Not quite."

For the first time, Henry sensed a small amount of grief from Draco. Out of respect, he said nothing for a few moments and only observed Draco as he looked away, apparently lost in thought.

"The end of this will come soon enough," said Henry in a much softer, reassuring tone. "As long as you follow what I say, I can guarantee it. The right moment is not too far away." His face was full of charm and cunning and he started to walk away from his friend.

Draco watched Henry with an impatient expression. "Sure, you and your mysterious words always. That scheme of yours better work out, Henry, whatever the hell it is."

Henry was grinning as he looked back over his shoulder at Draco. "Like I've said, trust Potter," he said softly and then walked out of the room. Draco stood there as puzzled as he always was after asking Henry any questions.

"Trust Potter," Draco repeated absent-mindedly. He watched his disgusted expression on the mirror. "Yeah right. Like that will ever happen."

* * *

Night had fallen and Harry was sitting on top of one of the castle's highest towers, where he could see almost all the other buildings and most of the vast school grounds, a location that any vampire would love for all its dark beauty and magnificent view. The supernatural vision made it possible for him to appreciate the smallest details hidden in the darkness, and their mysterious qualities that would otherwise go unnoticed.

"He's always loved attention, that's all he's ever wanted. He can't be trusted anymore." That's what one of his former best friends, now leader of his new hate club, was whispering to the others at the Gryffindor Common room, thinking that Harry couldn't possibly hear them. But the truth was that Harry could understand every single filthy thing they've said about him, and worse, what they thought of him. He was surprised they hadn't been told about his nature but he was also thankful. It would be a pain to deal with them if this happened, and merely ignoring them would be no longer an option.

He grew very tired of all the stupidity and nonsense. So again he had retreated to spend the hours by himself, looking at the dark sky above, letting time pass as if it was meaningless, even if he knew that it wasn't. He was waiting for the presence of a cherished one to reach him. He had felt it getting near for a long time, until finally he smelled her familiar scent and she was beside him again.

"I did it," Hermione Granger said cheerfully after she took off the Invisibility Cloak and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "I have everything here." She handed him a large bag full of exotic ingredients. Harry took them out one by one as she checked them off a list she had.

"What did you do?" asked Harry, studying his friend with amazement. "How long did it take you to find all this?"

"Oh, it wasn't as hard as I thought," she replied waving her hand, grinning a little smugly. "You know Knockturn Alley is highly overrated. Other than the fact that dark wizards tend to shop there, there's nothing too different or dangerous there, _really..." _

Harry chuckled. "Sure, whatever you say, Hermione."

"Oh, and speaking of dark wizards shopping there..." Hermione's tone suddenly became very serious, and the look she gave Harry made him sit up straight immediately. It was evident she was very excited to give this information to him, and for a moment she only looked at him, smirking.

"Yeah?"

Hermione immediately began to tell her story.

"After I got the last, most difficult ingredient in that odd little store next to Borgin & Burkes, I couldn't wait to get out of there, as you can imagine. But as I walked past a couple of shops something displayed on one of them immediate caught my attention." She paused as she took out of the bag a strange little crystal ball, similar to the ones used in divination but with one obvious difference; inside of it flowed a thick cloud of black smoke. Harry held it in his hands and in moments he remembered what it was.

"A tracker?" he guessed.

"I _had _to buy it. I know, dark stuff, forbidden..." said Hermione, looking a little guilty for a moment; then, to Harry's surprise, she smiled excitedly. "But can you imagine how useful this will be to you?"

For a few seconds he could only stare at her, amazed. "Think about it. With this, it'll be easier to track everyone down than using your map. You only need to know the shade of the person's magical aura, and with your mind power, it'll be like nothing. You only need to say the incantation with the color in mind, then the name of the person...and you could know their location always! You speak their name and the ball, as you surely know, will work like a very accurate compass**..." **She trailed off suddenly. "Harry, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He was studying her, searching through her mind. "Hermione...I'm shocked! Don't misunderstand me - I thank you very much for the favor. But I'm sure you know the Ministry banned this object months ago. Which store sold you this?"

This time she really did look guilty. "Don't get mad at me..."

"Don't tell me you went to the end corner of it!" said Harry with his voice slightly louder and he sat up straight. The "corner" of Knockturn Alley was, to say the least, one of the many Ministry "hot spots" marked on his magical map, where all sorts of crimes occurred every day.

"I was under the Invisibility Cloak!" cried Hermione in her defense.

"For Merlin's sake, powerful Dark Wizards can see through Invisibility Cloaks!" Harry replied, slightly upset. He honestly couldn't believe she would do something so rash. Not even in his reckless, heroic phase did he dare to go into that part of Knockturn Alley.

"Don't be foolish, Harry. Of course I put a strengthening charm on the cloak! Am I not the clever witch?"

He had to smile at the proud look on her face as she said it.

"So forget about it, okay? Just know that I got the Tracker. That was meant to happen anyway, because something much more important took place..." This time she felt a bit scared of how he might react because she was looking away from him and he could tell she was smirking.

"Yes? What happened next?" he urged. She spoke without looking at him.

"To say it quickly, when I got out of the store I noticed a very familiar Dark Wizard was also shopping there...he was buying something from the apothecary on the street and when he got the coins from his pocket, in just the right moment, I saw it...I could recognize that abnormally shiny metal hand instantly."

This time Harry was speechless. He continued to look at her, stunned.

"You know who it was. With a nonverbal spell I memorized the color of his aura, and after I made sure I was alone, I said the incantation and saved his location forever inside this Tracker," Hermione explained, still looking away. "It was a spur of the moment thing, I did it almost automatically..."

Harry had gone past the point of being shocked at his friends' actions. All he could say was, "You didn't need to do this for me."

"Nonsense, Harry. I knew what I was doing, alright?" answered Hermione, suddenly a little irritated. "Here, have it, use it whenever you're ready." She handed him the object.

"Listen, Hermione, that was unnecessary," protested Harry, his tone changing to one of genuine worry. "I could have found out the color of his aura some other way with magic, you didn't need to do something so risky, you could have -"

"Just appreciate what I did for you, alright?" she interrupted, her expression playful and her eyes passionately devoted. She kissed his cheek again. "I saved you the trouble of looking up the spell. I knew Pettigrew was next on your list."

Harry looked into her eyes, astonished even more by her words and her honest intentions. He sensed nothing but loyalty from her, and he was deeply touched.

She went back to her business-like demeanor. "Listen. We have to start brewing this as soon as possible so tomorrow we meet before Potions class, Harry, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Okay..." he answered automatically, still thinking about what she had done and the emotions that were suddenly warming the heart he thought had been hopelessly frozen.

"Well, I'm off to bed." She stood up. "Please wait until you've recovered your magical powers before you do anything."

"Yes, _mother_, I know," Harry answered, annoyed and mockful toward her. She playfully slapped his arm and then he had a sudden impulse. As she moved to go, he seized her hand and pulled her back toward him, forcing her to kneel next to him so he could reach her.

Then he did something he had never done before and kissed her on the lips.

Harry pressed his lips hard against hers, and this time Hermione was the one completely stunned, even though it only took her a couple of seconds to return the gesture. Their lips moved against each other tenderly as she placed both of her hands on his neck. The butterflies went wild inside her stomach as the kiss deepened and became more passionate. She caressed the slightly long strands of soft black hair that fell over his neck, lost in the moment of deep affection, while he held her arms.

After a moment later, Harry released Hermione from his hold and broke away from the kiss. For a few seconds, they could only stare at each other in silent wonder.

"Thank you," Harry breathed.

Hermione, blushing furiously and clearly speechless, nodded in acknowledgement. She got up and resumed her way out with a shocked but also very happy expression.

Harry surprised even himself. The thought of kissing her hadn't even crossed his mind until he did it. Perhaps it was due to his vampiric impulses, he didn't know.

Not even five minutes passed after Hermione left when something in the atmosphere nearby provoked Harry's keen senses. He sat up straight, eyes wandering over the nearby towers from where he could feel a clear but unidentified menace. Concentrating his powers, he shut himself off from everything else so he could know the source of that strong murderous intention.

* * *

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore hadn't slept in days.

A man of his age usually couldn't tolerate the stress he experienced every moment of his life, but Dumbledore had to brag that he was definitely not like anyone else. He had perfected a way of always appearing perfectly calm and collected even when he felt he was dying inside. He knew how to be a caring person but also a detached analyst, hiding his true feelings completely.

The truth was that even amongst the intense grief of losing one of the last important persons in his life, he made everyone else think he was the energetic and powerful leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the one all could trust to know the answers and how to fight this terrible war. For days on end he had been leading others into battles against abnormally powerful Death Eaters, and he was always amazed by the faith and loyalty shown to him. But deep inside he was tired, wary of all he had to constantly do, and he could not bear to think anymore. Because if he did, he would always find terrible errors he could no longer correct and he would only find despair.

His tired old body and soul craved to rest, if only for a few hours.

He stood in the middle of his office with his wand and he cast all the routine enchantments needed every night for the castle's protection and for his own protection. This he did as automatically as a robot; he didn't seem to even think of what he was doing as he waved his wand in complex motions and whispered tongue-twisting incantations like they were his mere instinct. When he was finished, he disappeared his wand with a wave of his hand and he slowly walked up the stairs that led to his private bed chamber. His dark violet nightgown billowed after him as he walked up the stairs and then directly to his bed, passing by some tables containing a few of his collection of mysterious silvery objects without pausing for an instant. At last as he settled in, he found a comfort he could barely recall ever having before.

He thought that even with such exhaustion and comfort from the bed he would not be able to sleep - as it always happened to him - because too many thoughts were inside his mind and would not let him be. He thought of things he had to tell members of the Order of the Phoenix, who were at that moment embarking on dangerous missions, he thought of orders he had to give other followers, things he had to remind his spy Severus Snape to do; in all, numerous preoccupations that a man of his position had to endure.

But surprisingly, the need took over him and he was asleep in only a few moments. Evidently, the last battle he had participated in had worn him out. Minutes passed when the only sounds that could be heard was of the wind coming in through the window and Dumbledore's soft snores.

Downstairs, the Headmaster's phoenix named Fawkes had been for a while completely awake and staring at one of the open windows. The bird's little eyes were very attentive and he stood as if concentrating hard on something it sensed in the atmosphere that he disliked. After a while he began to give cries of warning as if expressing that something wasn't right. Somehow he knew there was something foreign and dangerous inside the room that was heading in the direction of the Headmaster. Fawkes fluttered his wings as he continued to cry out from inside the cage where he was placed at night, but Dumbledore was too deeply asleep to notice.

Then, as suddenly as it had come in, whatever Fawkes had sensed had abruptly left the room, or more accurately, it had been thrown out. A strange medium-sized, oval-shaped object on the table nearest to the bed was giving small twinkling sounds, and these grew progressively louder, into rings like that of a bell. The object had given a flash of light that extended throughout the entire room and then it started to vibrate and ring.

Slowly, the sleeping old man on the bed opened his eyes. He listened to the ringing for few seconds, then whispered:

"Just as I thought. I'm sorry, Minerva."

Dumbledore's heart filled with the familiar guilt and regret that constantly occupied it. Had he noticed sooner, she might not have suffered her tragic fate. Even if many others thought him to be flawless, he knew he was far from it. His mistakes had always tormented him, and looking into the trembling, silvery object, instead of triumph he only felt stronger grief. Tears began to form on his reddish, tired eyes.

With a low groan he sat up and got out of his bed, walking slowly toward the obscure silver instrument he had set up so carefully that very same night, happy to finally give it some use. He sat on a chair right next to it and touched it with his finger whispering "_Revelio_," and immediately it stopped making noise and a dark red mist floated above it. He let out a soft "Oh..." of understanding.

"Yes, of course. Tom Riddle has never given up. But which of his followers could have sent this?" Dumbledore whispered very quietly, thinking out loud and looking into the distance, not an ounce of fear radiating from him. "Who nearby could have such a powerful magical aura?" He froze there in thought for a few seconds, and then he whispered in a more severe tone. "No...more importantly, who nearby could know such rare and ancient Dark Magic?"

* * *

Draco Malfoy felt like he had been whipped. The projected aura fell back inside his body so harshly he cried out in pain and fell off the large, black leather couch he had been lying on. It was as if he had extended a huge rubber band and it had suddenly slipped and fallen back. Holding on to the edge of the couch, Draco attempted to catch his breath, his heart beating very fast, feeling completely flabbergasted that something like that had happened.

He honestly had no clue what went wrong. All this time he thought his attack was undefeatable, impossible to stop or get caught using it. But then again, deep inside he always feared the Headmaster was too wise to be killed so easily by a mere student. Draco's fist clenched as he thought back to every single thing he did, trying to find some sort of flaw in his preparations.

First of all, he had made sure the door was locked and that he was alone - that particular room of the Slytherin common room was reserved for prefects only. He also assumed that since it was two in the morning, everyone in the castle must be asleep, and so no one should have interfered with his actions. Again he had checked the magical map Henry had given him and observed, through a spell, the blue dot that was his next victim as it remained faint, which indicated that the person was still asleep; Dumbledore was asleep!

_It had been the perfect time to strike, so what the hell went wrong?_

Then out of nowhere Draco heard a voice that made him jump up in alarm.

"As soon as I knew where that murderous magical aura was coming from, I knew it was _you_, Malfoy."

It sounded triumphant and threatening. Draco turned around.

"Potter!" Draco cried out in astonishment. "How the hell did you -?" He broke off, staring at the other with a mix of horror and awe.

Never had he noticed Harry Potter's paleness and unnaturalness until that moment. Perhaps it was because he hadn't really seen him after he was told what kind of creature Harry really was. Draco felt a stab of envy as he thought about it; he was looking at a powerful immortal and a predator, exactly what he and hundreds of great wizards have always dreamed to become. The image of Potter as the Gryffindor Golden hero finally melted away from Draco's stubborn mind, but he still refused to acknowledge it.

"Nevermind," said Draco angrily, as the other one stood there on the threshold of the room with his arms crossed. "You're a damn blood drinker, of course you can get in here." It was his only consolation to see the look of shock on Harry's face. "Yes, I know your little secret, Potter, I know exactly what you are, and I know what you've done."

"Do you now?" whispered Harry dangerously, taken aback, as he slowly approached Draco. "I also know what _you've_ done, Malfoy. You murdered McGonagall and now you tried to do Dumbledore in," Harry smiled as Draco's eyes widened. "Had some trouble now did you not, _Death Eater_?"

Draco couldn't control it any longer. His face became a mask of rage and he yelled, "You ruined my Aunt!" and with surprising speed, he drew out his wand and threw a curse at Harry - who noticed this, but of course, for him it had been as slow as ever.

With great ease Harry knocked the curse aside with his bare hand like it had been a fly, and it collapsed against the wall with a loud bang. Harry knew that on account of his strength the curse would have no effect on him, but he thought it would be fun to horrify Draco.

The blond was indeed gaping at Harry in disbelief, but he kept on throwing nonverbal curses as fast as he possibly could, moving around the room in an attempt to change the angles of the spells and increase his chances of hitting Harry, but it was useless.

"Ooohh! Gained a little skill from your snake Lord?" teased Harry amongst his laughter, slapping away with one hand each and every curse Draco threw at him. "But it's still not enough. I need no magic to defeat you."

The next thing Draco knew, his wand flew out of his hand and landed on the other side of the room. He knew Potter had done this without a single movement. At last, he thought he knew what Henry had been talking about.

"Oh, no Malfoy, you have no idea what he meant," said Harry with a dark smile after knowing Draco's thoughts. Harry lifted his hand in the other's direction and then the blonde Slytherin found himself pressed against the wall by some invisible force that had paralyzed every muscle of his body. At last a great amount of fear showed on his face when he saw his opponent appear right in front of him within a spilt second.

"I'll let you know _exactly_ what I can do to you," hissed Harry, his voice full of menace. "Then I'll put an end to you, filthy Death Eater!"

"I won't allow it."

A third and overpowering voice resounded all around the room and both Harry and Draco fell on the floor against their will. Immediately they turned to look at the cause of the interruption.

"You're both so troublesome, and so reckless," complained Henry Cunningham as he calmly approached the two wizards with an amused expression. "Now look -you've even forced me to place a silencing charm here because of this damn racket."

Both Draco and Harry kept staring at Henry, their attention completely drawn away from their previous opponent. Henry laughed softly as he looked at them with a kind of tenderness in his eyes, as if they were two of his children fighting over a toy.

"I guess I have no choice now but to have you both cooperate with each other and work together." Henry sighed. "Merlin, what a pain..."

None of them understood the true meaning of Henry's words. They could only look up, puzzled, at the powerful creature they both considered their mentor.


	9. The Alliance

**VIII - The Alliance**

* * *

Any witch or wizard could have recognized the highest tower of Azkaban immediately. Especially in recent times, most thought it was crucial since it contained the most feared Death Eater prisoners. Not long ago, the maximum-security cells on its highest floors were thought impossible to escape from or access from the outside. Now it was a different story.

The few Dementors surrounding it glided slowly through the air, almost lazily, making no movement as a suspicious cloud of black smoke suddenly flew right past them with great speed and landed on the roof of the tower. The hooded creatures continued to move slowly about as if nothing had happened.

Every corner of one of the rooms on the tower's top floor - walls, floor and ceiling - was completely covered in thick white cushions. The room had only one small window of impenetrable glass, through which only a small bit of moonlight could shine in. From the inside, there was no way of telling where the entrance was. In one of the corners lay a female figure completely dressed in white as well. The woman's long, unkempt black hair was an extreme contrast to its surroundings. The prisoner was on the floor in a stiff position because of the straight jacket that restrained her movements. Her face was covered with cuts and bruises and her eyes were looking into empty space, unfocused. For a while she merely lay still and soundless, then out of nowhere a cold, high voice broke the silence.

"Get up and reclaim your dignity."

It took a while for the prisoner to react. Very slowly, she turned her head sideways and attempted to focus on the source of the voice. Only a few feet away from her stood a tall, thin hooded figure of chalk white skin and red eyes.

_Red eyes! _

The prisoner immediately screamed with horror and dragged herself away from the intruder, staring at him like he was simply the most terrifying thing she has ever seen. Tears fell down her cheeks. The other's expression remained just as cold as before as he slowly approached her. She pressed herself against the wall as if determined to melt into it in order to get away.

"I said, _get up,"_ the intruder repeated, and lifted his wand in her direction.

The woman shrieked with surprise when she felt an invisible force push up her back and make her body rise up against her will until she was standing up straight. She looked at her own body with her eyes wide open, unable to make sense of anything, and when she looked at the person in front of her, she screamed again as if she had seen him for the first time.

"Pathetic."

The hooded figure stood right in front of her and pointed his wand at her until it touched her forehead. "I won't allow it," he said in a soft, cold tone. His wand glowed with red light. "Your powers won't go to waste for Lord Voldemort."

She shrieked again but couldn't move an inch; the wand was burning her forehead, but only for a moment. The room was suddenly covered completely in the reddish light. Darker shades of the same color were swirling wildly around them; a strong, unnatural wind had formed a tornado that seemed to emanate from the tip of the magic wand. The woman screamed some more at what she saw but couldn't possibly understand, and then as soon as everything else, the light retracted and rushed into her at once, entering her body through the spot on her forehead the wand had touched.

The indescribable sensation prevented her from making any noise. The large mass of light had gone completely inside her and as soon as it ended, the pale wizard moved the wand away and she fell on her knees. Her head was bowed and her hair concealed almost all of her face, except her mouth, where a small mist of red light still shone faintly. The body was very still, sustaining itself by the arms as if by its own volition, as small dots of light kept entering her from different directions.

The one standing over her laughed softly and mirthlessly. "Now, all by yourself, Bella, you will rise to serve your master again."

The kneeling woman lifted up her head and looked up, her expression completely blank and emotionless. Her eyes looked strangely drowsy and were halfway closed. When she opened her mouth to speak, the last mist of red light went inside her as she breathed it in. "Yes, my Lord," she said in a monotone voice, her expression unchanging. "I will serve you."

Slowly, she stood up straight. She showed absolutely no change in expression as the other laughed at her again and, with a swish of his wand, they both became clouds of black smoke and disappeared.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, three young wizards were watching all that occurred by means of a large crystal ball. The Room of Requirement had been turned into a luxurious common room with leather armchairs, a fireplace and a table with glasses of wine. The guys sat around the table, two of them staring into the magical orb with a mixture of awe and shock as the smoke inside it dispersed and disappeared.

"The magic ball is a _very_ useful magical object, you know," said the brown haired, clever looking one sitting on the middle. "It can't be taken for granted."

"Henry, how did you -?" started Harry.

"Earlier today, I sensed an unnatural magical disturbance," interrupted Henry Cunningham, speaking very casually and relaxed, leaning back on his comfortable chair. "It was stronger than any other. And soon enough, I knew it had been because the half blood Lord was increasing the power of followers by some new technique."

Harry frowned. "That bastard."

"I concentrated my powers and then just moments ago, I sensed his intentions again," Henry explained. "I found out where this was coming from - the wizard prison. It was then that I used this wonderful object to observe what went on. As you two just saw, he's found a way to use Bellatrix as a mindless puppet and have her raw magical powers under his command again."

The expression on Draco Malfoy's face was beyond indignant. "That filthy half-blood," he growled. "How dare he do that to my Aunt?"

Harry knew he was gaping at the angry blonde next to him. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined Draco speaking that way about Lord Voldemort. But then a sudden, deep frustration reached Harry and he crossed his arms.

"Damn it," Harry cursed angrily. "How stupid of me. I should've finished off that hag after all."

"_Potter_!"

Harry glanced at Draco indifferently and laughed. "Don't worry, Malfoy. Next time I see her, I definitely _will_."

"Don't talk about my-!"

"Quiet, Draco," commanded Henry and Draco immediately closed his mouth. "And you, Harry, don't underestimate the woman, or any Death Eater for that manner," he warned. "That would be extremely foolish. They are all much more powerful now, especially Bellatrix, even if she's just a puppet."

"No difference there, really, she's always been a crazy, mindless - "

"Shut up already about my aunt, Potter!"

This time Henry only sighed and went on as if there had been no interruption. "Most importantly, disgusting as he is, the snake Lord has cleverly assumed how the _slayer _-" He looked at Harry. "-Of his followers has been tracking them down. That's all I could extract from his mind. I've got to admit the fool has mind shielding abilities. So after the latest boost of their power, he has taken measures to conceal them and their magical auras as much as possible."

Harry looked at Henry with growing dread as his Maker went on.

"And that means, dear fledgling, that _you _can't know their shades anymore. The snake Lord has acknowledged the threat and is keeping his followers under tedious watch in a protected hideout only _Death Eaters-_" Henry smirked at Draco this time "-Can access directly. And not even _they_ know the whereabouts."

There was a pause in which none of them spoke. With the trace of a smirk on his lips, Henry looked at the other two as they avoided each other's eyes while they tried to accept the realization. Draco took his glass and sipped some wine in an attempt to seem distracted.

"Time to grow up," declared Henry with amusement. "If you both wish to succeed, there's no other way."

Harry looked for one second at Draco Malfoy, the guy he had considered his rival all his life, and as he looked away, he felt the same old emotions resurface no matter how much he tried to avoid it. Harry simply couldn't grasp the possibility that they could actually agree on something, or help each other in any way. There seemed to be an inherent aversion between them; since the first day they met, they were like oil and water, and he couldn't remember ever having a single positive interaction with Draco Malfoy.

"We have one thing in common, Potter."

Harry was caught off guard by Draco's tone. He slowly looked up at Draco, whose forced expression proved how much effort it cost him to speak in a civilized manner.

"And that is that we both want him gone," Draco finished.

Harry could only stare, astounded, as the other extended his arm to offer a handshake. The memory came into Harry's mind of Draco doing the same gesture on the Hogwarts Express five years before. He also remembered how flatly he had rejected it, which had been the moment that defined the beginning of their rivalry.

"Henry's right," said Draco heavily. "The goal must be achieved, so put everything behind now. We have to do it."

Henry was looking from one to the other, smirking. After a few moments, Harry finally made stable eye contact with his rival and shook his hand. They both let go quickly and went back to looking away from each other. Henry chuckled.

"Good!" Henry congratulated them like little kids. "See? It's not so hard. All you have to do now is keep your word."

"We will," said Draco firmly. Again, Harry gazed at him with surprise.

"And why are _you_ so determined?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. "I thought you and your precious family were his loyal servants."

"Nonsense, the Malfoys are no lowly servants-!"

"Oh _really_?" said Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Then what's that ugly mark on your forearm?"

"I had no other choice, and neither did my father!" Draco argued, his usual aversion showing for the first time since they entered the room. "Listen, Potter, we have made this agreement because it's beneficial to both, but it doesn't mean I've forgotten! It's still _you're_ fault my father's in Azkaban!"

"Oh, my bad," replied Harry sarcastically. "I'm sorry your dad was a weak fool and got caught."

"How dare you, he is NOT weak!"

"That's enough," commanded Henry.

Immediately they were quiet, and again, Henry sighed. "I guess I overestimated both of you," he said, shaking his head with disappointment. "Well, you're just younglings, after all. But in the end, it all comes down to priority. A petty rivalry cannot be an obstacle for ambition. Well, of course it all depends on how much both of you _want _to bring him down."

"That would be a lot, he _is _going down," said Harry very firmly. "I don't care _how _it's done. I just don't believe Malfoy here shares the same determination as I." He looked at the blonde suspiciously.

"You don't know anything about me, Potter," said Draco bitterly, almost in a whisper. "You have no idea how much we have hated the half-blood and how disgusted we have been of aligning ourselves with the fools that are loyal to him. The disgrace is something you won't understand." Draco looked straight at Harry this time, surprising him more than ever before, as he declared, "Mark my words: By any means possible, I _will_ free my family from him, and I _will_ restore our honor."

The room was filled with a very dark atmosphere. "...by any means possible..." Draco repeated, like the chant of a spell, his eyes burning with pure ambition and deep-rooted hatred. It was then that he convinced Harry, who could sense nothing but complete honesty. For a moment, Harry could see into Draco's heart, past all the negative emotions, and found a genuine wish for the safety of those important to him and for his father's freedom.

"Harry is the only one that can do it," said Henry reassuringly, as he looked from one wizard to the other. Draco seemed to be completely convinced and he looked up at Harry, for the first time, with respect.

"You'll help me?" asked Harry.

"Like I said, I'll do anything to bring him down," answered Draco very firmly. "We purebloods cannot allow a half-blood Dark Lord to exist."

They continued to look at each other for few moments, as the newborn understanding grew slowly between them. Henry was standing beside them, still smirking at them.

"Unbreakable wizard's vow," Henry said, gesturing for them to stand at his side. "Let's get this over with."

Soon there were thin stripes of light coming from Henry's wand. They formed a chain around Draco and Harry's hands, filling the room with a bright yellow light like an intense fire. The former rivals looked at each other seriously, filled with determination, firmly holding the other's hand.

"Do you both swear on your lives to keep everything related to this alliance completely secret from everyone outside this room?" asked Henry.

"Yes," answered Harry and Draco in unison.

"Do you both swear on your lives to use any means possible to achieve the proposed goal, no matter the consequences?"

"Yes."

"Do you both swear to protect with your lives this alliance and assist each other always, until the purpose has been achieved?"

"Yes."

"Then it is so," declared Henry, and spoke in a high voice; "_Infragilis votum."_

The chains of light binding Draco and Harry expanded and its brightness intensified. For a moment the room shook as the light suddenly absorbed into the bodies of both young wizards.

* * *

Nothing could make Harry forget about the previous night. As he sat against one of the walls on the floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, his mind wondered off even as he carefully prepared one of the ingredients of the re-vitalizing potion he was brewing with Hermione, risking cutting one of his fingers with the sharp knife he was using to pulverize mandrake roots. He could still hear himself making the Unbreakable Vow as if it happened seconds before, and the memory of the chains of light that now bound him and Draco Malfoy was as vivid as ever.

"Harry, pass them to me now."

Hermione's voice made him snap out of it so abruptly, it annoyed him. He tried to hide this as he leaned forward and gave her the cutting board. After she added the ingredients to the cauldron, this one much larger than the one they had used for Polyjuice Potion, she moved back and said, "At last we get a break." She sat cross-legged and leaned back, resting with her arms behind her. "Now we just need add the rest after this brews for a while."

"Good," said Harry. He moved closer to her, who was only a few feet away, and lay down on his back using her legs as a cushion. She smiled at him warmly and caressed the side of his face and his soft black hair.

"Tired?"

"Yeah." Harry yawned and closed his eyes in an attempt to relax his mind. "Forgot to drink Enertentia today, and I haven't fed for a while."

She continued to stroke his hair. "Why did you forget?" she asked softly. "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "There's just a lot on my mind."

"Right," she answered, looking unconvinced. "But how come you didn't feed last night? You should, you know..."

"I will, tonight. Don't worry about that."

There was a pause where the only sound was the bubbling of the potion. Hermione was simply gazing down at Harry with tenderness, but looking deeply anxious at the same time.

"Will you do him in tonight?" she finally asked, in the same soft tone. "Will you feed from him?"

"Yes," said Harry, without opening his eyes. "He might give me useful information if I did."

"You're right..." said Hermione hesitantly. "But Harry, think about it. Perhaps it's better that you wait to fully restore your powers." She paused but he didn't reply or move at all. "I mean, I know you have other abilities now but, they're getting more powerful too, and-"

"There's no time to sit around and do nothing," answered Harry. "I need to end them all as soon as possible."

"Yes, but-"

"Don't you get it? Haven't you seen how many are dying at this moment?" Harry's tone was cold and, strangely, his face showed no anguish at all. "Don't you know how many will be saved by getting rid of Pettigrew alone?"

"I know, Harry, you're right. I was just worried."

This time, he slowly opened his eyes to look at her. When he saw the expression on her face, he smiled without even thinking about it and lifted his hand toward her face. He touched her chin affectively. "I'm the last person you need to worry about, 'Mione," he said softly. "Trust me."

She returned his smile. "Yeah, I guess that's true." They laughed together. "I don't know. Just ignore me."

They shared a few more moments of relaxation before it was time to return to work. As Harry ordered the last group of ingredients in separate groups, Hermione mixed the potion with her wand and then looked at her watch.

"Oh no, class starts in half an hour!" she said suddenly. "We need to finish this quickly. Pass them over, Harry."

The word "quickly" made him remember. As he gathered the first group of ingredients, he took out small bag out of his robe and gave it all to Hermione.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at the bag with curiosity. She put down the group of ingredients so she could open it.

"Extra ingredients for the potion," said Harry casually. "They'll speed up the process even more."

Hermione gasped as soon as she saw them. "Merlin, Harry, all of these are extremely rare," she said with wonder as she took out them out one by one. "How did you get them?

Unable to control it, Henry's voice came into his head and he saw the Room of Requirement.

"_The first thing you've got to do now, Harry, is get back your powers," his Maker had said to him the night before, then handed him a small bag of magical ingredients. "Add these as you brew it, and the potion will be ready by tomorrow night."_

"_Thanks..." _

"_And Draco," Henry then added. "Don't you have a mission? It'd be wise to work on accomplishing it, don't you think?"_

_The three of them had parted ways awkwardly. It was strange to even think of considering someone like Draco his comrade now. And Draco looked so anguished after Henry had said that to him; Harry couldn't stop wondering what the slytherin would do next in order to get rid of Dumbledore._

"Harry."

"Yeah?" he replied absent-mindedly, trying as much as he could to banish again all thoughts of the previous night.

"How did you get them?" she repeated.

"Oh, Lupin gave them to me in yesterday's Occumency lesson," Harry invented, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "He noticed my lack of magical power when we were training, so I mentioned I was brewing a Revitalizing Potion, and -"

"Wait. He knows you're magically exhausted?" asked Hermione. She leaned toward Harry, looking very worried. "Does he know _how_ you got magically exhausted?"

"Erm, no," Harry's voice trailed off, and he cursed himself silently for being such a lousy liar. Hermione stared at him incredulously for a few moments, still holding one of the new ingredients.

Then, out of nowhere, a loud cackle made them both jump up.

"_Liar, Liar, _Harry!" teased a familiar high-pitched voice. Hermione gasped sharply as something transparent went right through her, giving her the sensation of being dipped in ice-cold liquid for a second. The ghost gave another high cackle and soared above them, looking affectionately at Harry and then with narrowed eyes at Hermione. "You're a _bad_ boy, lying to your little _girlfriend!" _

"Myrtle, what do you want?" snapped Harry irritably. "We're busy, go away!"

"OHHH, _Harry!" _

Both of them had to cover their ears with their hands in order to avoid going deaf; the shriek had been as high-pitched as ever. Myrtle suddenly went into one of her wailing rampages, swirling around in circles in midair. Hermione looked accusingly at Harry. "Make her stop, Harry!" she cried, wincing and pressing down her ears.

"How am I supposed to do that?" protested Harry, also covering his ears. His superior vampiric senses were amplifying the noise even more. Luckily for him, Myrtle decided to stop shrieking and continue bothering Hermione instead. She dived down and went through her again, this time remaining a bit longer so that Hermione cried out and shivered. She cackled again and floated inches away from her.

"And I thought _you_ were supposed to be the most clever witch," squeaked Moaning Myrtle, staring at Hermione with a nasty expression on her transparent, silvery face. "Isn't it obvious where he got all those _rare _and_ dark _ingredients?"

"W-What do you mean?" asked Hermione through clenched teeth, still shivering.

"Hah!" Myrtle cried out. "You're as thick as any of them, if you haven't noticed! Naughty Harry got it from that strange new _boy_."

"Huh? What strange new...boy..." Hermione trailed off as she spoke, frowning as if a sudden realization was dawning on her.

"Well, _obviously,_ that ancient vampire, Henry Cunningham! You know, Harry's _maker_!"

Hermione gasped and slowly placed a hand over her mouth. Harry's jaw dropped and he looked back and forth between Myrtle and Hermione, horrified.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Myrtle squeaked again and her cheeks seemed to blush as she looked at Harry. "I've been _spying _on you, Harry. And I know that mischievous boy is definitely up to something. I've seen him sneaking around the castle and - AHHHH!"

Hermione and Harry experienced another sudden shock. Moaning Myrtle had fallen down and gone through the floor as something pulled her underground with great force. The ghost's scared shrieks could be heard distantly for a few seconds until they completely disappeared.

"What on earth was that?" asked Hermione, surprised by the strange phenomenon too much to even remember what the ghost had just told her.

"I wish I knew," said Harry with genuine confusion.

Miles below, Moaning Myrtle was still shrieking with fear. Some invisible force was pulling her harshly, as if a rope had been tied to her feet and was pulling her down by an extremely heavy object. She was disoriented. All she knew was that she was going under the place she had always called "home" and she was passing through many thick walls and tunnels.

After a while, it finally stopped. She was now in large, dark chamber, like an underground atrium that led to many narrow passages. She had never seen the place before and even in her ghost state, she felt completely bewildered. Then a presence caught all of her attention. She floated around to face it; she hadn't felt such fear ever since she the moment she died. The invisible force was forcing her to stay still as the figure approached. It was too dark to tell who it was. The ghost could only distinguish the pale skin and young-looking face.

"Meddlesome ghost," it said to her in an intimidating, cold voice. "Be gone."

The face was inches away from hers, revealing its identity for a split second, but before she could process what she saw, the eyes suddenly became fiery yellow, like those of a basilisk.

"Those eyes!" Myrtle cried with horror, and then she knew no more. Her entire transparent form dissolved into a puff of steam. The yellow-eyed being in front of her stared at the mist as it spread out upwards, and at the tiny specs of bright light within it as they slowly faded away.

Then the creature closed its eyes. A bright greenish light radiated all around it and, lifting the index and middle finger of one hand, the figure directed it upwards. The green light flew in that direction with great speed.

Far up in the castle, Harry and Hermione sat on the floor of the bathroom, staring at each other with blank, disoriented expressions. Seconds before, a wave of green light had passed through them, emanating from the floor and then disappearing through the ceiling of the room.

"Er...okay? We both dozed off all of the sudden," said Harry after a few moments. They laughed at each other softly.

"Yeah, how odd. Now, where were we?" asked Hermione, rubbing her eyes. "Why do I feel drowsy now? Oh, right! Now we add _these, _then the beeswax." She returned to the cauldron and added the ingredients she had in her hand, including the ones Harry brought, without hesitation. Harry handed the next group of ingredients to her and she added them too, mixing the potion with her wand.

* * *

Hours later and many miles away, a large group of wizards met in what appeared to be a dining room. The air filled with a variety of voices as they came into the room and settled either on the long table that stood in the center, or on the couches and chairs that were placed around it in order for all of them to fit. More than half of them had scarlet robes that clearly identified them as Ministry Aurors, but a small group gathered at the end of the table were all dressed in their everyday attire. In the chair sat the obvious leader of the organization, his hands entwined before him as he patiently listened to his subordinates with a thoughtful expression.

"We must act now," one of them said in low, rough voice. He was holding down on the table a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that read, '_Insane Bellatrix Lestrange disappears from Azkaban, along with five other Death Eaters'_. The man looked outraged. "It's only a matter of time until they strike again," he insisted. "We can't allow it!"

"But we cannot be hasty, Alastor," warned a deep-voiced black wizard sitting on the other side of Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix. "The enemy wants us to resort to drastic measures, and we mustn't, we must plan carefully."

"No need to lose patience, gentlemen," said Dumbledore in his usual politely soft, yet authoritative, voice. "Today Severus gives his report, and then we will decide which action to take."

The others seemed to calm down at his words, at least on the surface. Alastor Moody sat back against his chair, shifting anxiously like if desperate to go into battle, and he watched, along with the other settled members, as the rest of the group took their places around the room. Nymphadora Tonks, dressed in her Auror robes and accompanied by Dedalus Diggle and Emmeline Vance1, greeted Dumbledore warmly and those gathered around him, like a group of close comrades, and then the three of them took their seats.

"Very well, silence please." Dumbledore's loud voice resounded across the noisy room. "Thank you all for coming. Let's begin this meeting, we have much to discuss today."

Within seconds, they were all completely quiet.

"First of all, allow me to introduce to you our newest members; another group from the Ministry's Auror Office who have our full trust and have agreed to fight along with us in this war."

Dumbledore gestured to where the new group was sitting and, as he said each of their names, they stood one by one as a greeting. They were eight in total; the room was packed with relatively new members. The Order had grown significantly, especially recently, since the threat of the Death Eaters had increased so drastically. It had grown so much in such a short period of time that they had to organize themselves by ranks, starting from the oldest members to the newest. The oldest and most trusted of all served as second leaders and they all seated themselves closest to Dumbledore. They were in the middle of their individual reports when there was a sudden interruption the door of the room had opened, and in came a tall, middle-aged wizard wearing shabby robes.

"Sorry we're late," said Remus Lupin as he walked further inside the room, toward his assigned seat. "Please excuse us."

Another person had entered the room right after him. It was a young wizard of striking appearance, with pale skin and straight black hair. His face was still famous and instantly recognizable, even without the trademark glasses.

"Ah, Harry, welcome," said Dumbledore pleasantly, eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Have a seat, please."

Harry Potter looked puzzled as he made his way around the room to the place Dumbledore gestured him to sit. He felt uncomfortable as always at having all eyes on him, like he had been thrown on a stage with a spotlight. He saw numerous Order members he had never seen before, all of them staring at him in a variety of ways; some with suspicion, others with apparent admiration. And then he suddenly stopped.

On one of the couches sat a very disgruntled looking Ron Weasley and, next to him, Hermione Granger. Ron had his arms crossed and he was looking away and they were sitting as far away as possible, clearly pretending the other wasn't there. As soon as Harry's eyes met Hermione's, her expression changed dramatically into one of relief and excitement. She beamed at him and beckoned him to sit beside her after scooting toward to Ron.

Harry hesitated before he moved. The last thing he wanted was to be near his former best friend, but then again, everybody was looking at him and Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for him to sit in order to go on. He sighed and moved slowly toward his assigned seat next to Hermione.

Ron didn't move an inch. His greeting was a sullen whisper only the three of them could hear. "Been having' a ball lately, haven't you, blood sucker?"

Hermione hissed and lifted her hand instinctively to hit him, but refrained to do so with great difficulty. Harry, on the other hand, ignored him completely.

"_Why_ am I here?" Harry whispered to himself irritably.

"Isn't it obvious?" whispered Hermione into his ear, holding his hand.

"Yeah I know, but still..." Harry whispered back to her even more quietly. "It's not like I want to be here."

"And now we will pause for a moment to present to you more of our new members," said Dumbledore right then, as if he had heard their conversation. "Remus, if you must."

Remus Lupin stood to address the assembly.

"As you all know, Harry Potter is here with us today with two other fellow Gryffindors; all three are Sixth Years at Hogwarts School. They have been asked to join us due to their experience battling against the dark arts and their already direct involvement in this War. May I remind you of their intervention in the Ministry of Magic this past June, under Harry's courageous leadership."

"Yeah right," said Ron with an angry snort. Hermione shot him a scolding gaze he didn't see because he still had the same posture; arms crossed, looking away from the other two as if they didn't exist.

"- Which, in the end, resulted in proving the return of He Who Must Not Be Named to the Ministry. As their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I assure you they are _more _than capable-" Lupin looked at Molly Weasley as he spoke, who sat at the other side of the table looking extremely unhappy "-of taking part in our meetings and activities. Because of their participation in this war, they have the right to know what's happening."

Lupin gestured to the seated Gryffindor trio. "Please welcome our newest and youngest members to date. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

Both of them stood briefly after their names were called. Hermione gave a nervous little smile and Ron's expression remained just as gloomy.

"And of course, Harry Potter."

Harry had a strong urge to frighten them all by leaving the room within a split second, disappearing with a swish of his cloak at a speed none of them could detect. But he knew that in the end, keeping their trust would be beneficial. So he summoned his best acting skills and stood to greet them, looking like the golden Gryffindor boy they expected to see before them.

The meeting went on. Less than ten minutes passed, however, before there was a second interruption; unfortunately for the young wizards, their least favorite professor walked into the room. Severus Snape stood beside the other end of the table as he gave his routine report on the Death Eaters' activities and future attack plans. And afterwards, there was a long deliberation among the "official" members about their plans of action, in which, of course, the three young new members had no say.

It ended after what felt to Harry like ages. He and Hermione then stood in a corner of the crowded room, discreetly holding hands and whispering to each other while the other members left as noisily as they had arrived. Ron practically ran out of the room as soon as Dumbledore dismissed them.

"So their next target is Birmingham city, and only two days left," whispered Hermione. "Merlin, will they ever take a break?"

"No. That's why they need to die," Harry whispered back. "And that's why I'm leaving now."

"Wait, aren't you staying for the training session?"

"Don't need it, Lupin knows."

He was leaving but she didn't want to let go of his hand. When it fell out of her grip, she stayed there watching him leave the room with haste. A deeply anxious, downhearted expression showed on her face as he went.

_Do what you've got to do, Harry... _

* * *

They were waiting for him near the edge of the rooftop of one of the castle's numerous high towers.

"Evening, my fledgling. Let's see how it goes," said Henry as soon as Harry approached them, and he held out a bundle of black wizard garments, a battle robe and a cloak. Harry took off the Hogwarts school robes and began to change into the other ones.

"Well Henry was right, obviously. The Dark Lord made us all conceal our auras from detection and, as you know, boosted our powers collectively; he thinks we all stand a chance against the so-called slayer," Draco explained, leaning casually against the banister on the edge of the rooftop, watching Harry with curiosity. "But it's just as we thought. It's too bad for _him_ that those with Dark Marks are an exception to the concealing spell-" he had a malicious yet delighted smirk as he said it "-and lucky for you. Those who bear the Mark can detect them just the same."

"That's good, but I don't need it yet. I have the one for tonight."

Harry had taken out the small circular object Hermione had recently given him, and now a mist of color swirled inside of it. He closed his eyes and thought out the incantation, making it shiver and become warm. He placed it inside the pocket of his robe.

"Wait, just one?" Draco blurted out a little recklessly.

"His powers will not be at their full capacity until tomorrow," Henry explained, smiling darkly. "And also, our greedy slayer will not be satisfied with a swift execution, am I right?"

Harry had finished fixing his new attire; a long, flowing mass of black garments that already made him almost unrecognizable. He kept the hood of the cloak down and took out a glass vial from his Hogwarts robes. It was filled with a red hot liquid he immediately gulped at once like medicine. He then found himself leaning over the banister, gripping his stomach, wincing as the potion traveled throughout his body with a burning sensation and concentrated in the middle of his belly. The sudden pain almost blinded him and made him momentarily disoriented. He could literally feel the power growing inside of him, energizing him dramatically.

"Go ahead, Draco," he heard Henry say.

Harry managed to lift himself up and look over to them. He watched as the blonde wizard took out his wand and, with a non-verbal incantation, conjured an object that looked like a thick belt with many long, sharp knives attached to it.

"As you know, the powers will return gradually," Henry reminded Harry. "They'll be restored fully in about twelve hours."

Draco handed Harry the belt of weapons. Harry opened his robe in the middle and placed the belt underneath it, around his hip, and fixed his garments again. With just one thought of magical will, each blade will appear on his hand and they'll all remain safely concealed.

"You will need to use those as much as you can," Henry continued. "Remember to do magic _only_ when necessary to avoid exhaustion. Always use the new techniques."

"I will."

"And also, very importantly, remember to drink as much of their blood as possible."

"Of course," Harry resplied with a bloodthirsty grin. "_That_, I definitely won't forget. "

Harry leaped unto the banister of the rooftop, as easily as only a vampire could, like it cost him absolutely no effort. More eager than ever to carry out his mission, he put on the wide hood of his cloak; it concealed his face completely, magically, more than any other hood would be able to, giving him the shocking appearance of a Dementor. He touched the place where he kept the Tracker that will lead him to his victim. It was still warm.

"It indicates he's still in alone in his home, correct?" asked Henry. Harry nodded. "I remind you that Pettigrew is probably bait. The half-blood Lord must be desperate to find the identity of the killer, so this would be highly predictable. _Only_ if you have the need, Harry, and after the others have appeared, can you use more of your power," insisted Henry with a grave tone.

"I understand, but I don't need any more warnings," replied Harry, his mindset focused entirely on the wide-open space before him, on his urge to just move out of there and satisfy the cold and intense determination reflected in his voice. "A filthy little rat like Pettigrew and the half-blood's minions don't scare me." Harry stood on the edge of the handrail.

"That's the spirit," whispered Henry with another sinister smile.

"Get rid of that bastard, Potter," said Draco, all of the sudden, in an encouraging tone Harry had never heard him use before. Without looking back, he knew Draco was also smirking at him.

"No need to say it."

Harry was gone. His dark garments billowed after him as he gracefully floated down and then moved with supernatural speed across the school grounds, toward the Forbidden Forest.


	10. The Slayer Rises

**IX - The Slayer Rises **

* * *

He could only sit there contemplating how unfair it was that he, instead of any other disloyal, unworthy servant, was chosen. Never before had he summoned such effort in magically concealing his thoughts of doubt, fear and resentment from his Master, even if his body gave it all away uncontrollably. He was a sorry excuse for a man, crouched and trembling as he kept looking at every corner of the room - gestures he was always known to make but were now exaggerated.

"Wormtail."

"YES! Y-Yes, Master?" he squeaked, jumping up in alarm when the disturbingly familiar cold, high voice resounded all around him and the image of his Master appeared on the large mirror in front of him. He kept on breathing rapidly like a rat, squeezing the object in his hand that he clung to like his only weapon.

"What is it, my sleazy little friend?" taunted Voldemort. "Are you afraid?"

"N-No, my Lord, not at all-"

"HAHAHAHA!"

Voldemort's maniacal laughter made Pettigrew recoil again. He watched his Lord's glowing red eyes regard him with contempt, even disgust, and then the hideous transition he constantly made from cruel amusement to his usual imperious demeanor.

"Do not fail," commanded Voldemort. "Once more I will remind you to summon them the _instant_ he appears. If we are signaled only from your panic through the connection, believe me, Wormtail, you will be so lowly and useless that if he doesn't finish you off, _I will._"

"Yes, M-Master, I won't fail. I won't lose."

The Dark Lord had gone before Wormtail finished speaking. The servant cursed under his breath and looked nervously around the room again. He waited.

For a while, the only sound he heard was the wind as it entered through a window, but the peaceful atmosphere did nothing to calm him. He kept looking at the object he held against his chest protectively; it looked like a silver locket, with the symbol of the Dark Mark engraved on its metal surface, and it was halfway open, to be shut tightly only when the dreaded moment came. He was actually surprised at how afraid he was; he was a Death Eater confident in his superior abilities, but an opponent that could destroy the Lestranges was not one he would ever want to face.

A few seconds later, a subtle disturbance - one he could only sense with a wizard's intuition - caught his attention. His sensitive nerves caused him to stand from his chair so abruptly that it fell backwards and made a loud bang. Pettigrew winced at the sound and turned to look at every inch of the room, pointing his wand in every direction with his unstable hand and holding the locket with the other, his fingers ready to shut it as soon as necessary. Stupidly, he called out to his potential adversary, unable to control his shaking voice and instantly felt ashamed for it.

Then he froze.

The large wall mirror where his Master had appeared moments before was now covered completely in fog, like a crystal ball about to reveal an image. Pettigrew approached it slowly, pointing his wand in front of him.

A thin ray of bright blue light suddenly pierced through the wall mirror and came so fast that, before Pettigrew could react, it severed his left arm from his body, like a deadly energetic sword, and the locket he held was knocked away along with his body part. The shattered glass also flew behind the beam of light, and many of its shards stabbed him in different parts of his body, all at the same time. The entire mirror had exploded along with part of the wall.

Pettigrew fell backwards with the painful blow and before he could react, his wand flew out of his hand very swiftly, as if he had been hit with a Disarming Spell. Then he heard an oddly distorted, inhuman voice.

"Now you'll be _completely_ helpless."

He saw his wand explode into a million tiny pieces of wood, as if by its own volition, before it touched the floor. Refusing to believe what he just saw, Pettigrew slowly lifted his head to look at his opponent, clutching his severed limb and already trembling.

Standing behind the giant hole in the wall, on the other room, was a faceless figure in dark garments, its arm still extended as blue light reentered it by accumulating on the index and middle fingers that still pointed at Pettigrew. Pieces of the wall were still falling randomly when the figure reappeared a few feet away from the fallen man within the blink of an eye, startling him.

"Afraid?" said the hideous, distorted voice of the figure looking down at him. Pettigrew couldn't move or look away. Then the attacker lifted a pale hand and took off the hood of its cloak, revealing its face.

Pettigrew's lips curved into an "O" shape, as if beginning to breathe out the word "Potter", and all color had gone from his face. He immediately noticed the dark, twisted smirk that made the face look very much unlike the young boy he remembered. Next thing he knew, he had been thrown to the other side of the room by means of a whip-like thing he barely had time to see, of the same color as the previous beam of light, and indescribably painful. He fell on the floor so harshly he had no air left in his lungs in order to cry out.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Shame, shame, Pettigrew. Are you supposed to be a Death Eater?" asked the attacker calmly, approaching him slowly. "That's pathetic..."

The voice had changed; it seemed human but still unusually calm and icy, completely unfitting for the one that used it. Pettigrew summoned all his strength and dived toward the locket, determined to somehow shut it, even with a stub left as his arm, but the attacker had appeared next to the locket within a second and kicked it aside, away from the fallen, blood soaked man.

"...then again, nothing more could be expected of you," finished the attacker with disgust. "Oh, and what's that you had?" he added with a horrible, playful tone as he pointed at the silver object. "A little tool to summon your friends?"

The locket burst into a million tiny shards, again without apparent cause. Pettigrew shrieked, and the attacker laughed. Then he blinked and realized the intruder was holding him up by the neck of his robes.

Something in the other's expression changed dramatically, and Pettigrew saw the eyes flash red and the sharp fangs that grew slightly within a second as the mouth opened, and then there was a horrible, sharp pain in his neck. The movements were so fast his eyes could barely follow them. Bewildered completely, Pettigrew felt an excruciating tightness inside, concentrated on his chest, and a pressure directed toward the wound on his neck. He felt like the core of his being was being sucked out of his body.

Then he heard the laughter faintly and saw the other's crazed expression, the blood soaked mouth, all blurred out and confusing. Pettigrew knew he would collapse like a lifeless piece of meat if he were released from the painfully tight grip.

"Please, forgive me!" Pettigrew cried, tears falling uncontrollably. "Your parents would have wanted-!"

"Reduced to begging, are we? My oh My, what would your Master say?"

"Please!"

The response he got was more laughter, and the sharp pain of fangs piercing him again as painfully as possible. The horrible sensation came again, but this time it was so intense he was sure he would die. His mind suddenly went blank and only came back after he felt a huge blow on the back of his head and realized he was laying facedown on the floor. The intruder had pushed him hard against the wall after releasing him.

Pettigrew was shaking all over; he was surprised with every movement his body was able to achieve. Somehow he managed to climb up to his knees and look up at the vampire in front of him that continued to laugh and smile evilly at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he watched his eyes glow momentarily with a red light - exactly like Lord Voldemort's.

"What are you?" Pettigrew yelled with horror, and immediately darted out the room, staggering and falling on the floor and whimpering like a frightened child. His entire body was throbbing. He didn't know how he made his way out of the room and into the corridor. He felt chills run up his spine as he heard the creature's laughter change into insanely delighted cackles. The voice was so loud his ears were about to bleed.

"Running away, _Worm_tail?"

Pettigrew burst into the kitchen, and in absolute desperation, dove for the fireplace and buried his face inside a bag of Floo Powder he kept beside it.

"Why cling so _desperately_ to your absolutely worthless life?"

He managed to hold a decent amount inside his mouth and then attempted to stand up without having limbs.

"YOU'RE NOTHING. YOU LIFE IS NOTHING."

An unnaturally powerful hand grabbed his hair and pulled him away from the fireplace with a force he was sure would tear his head off his shoulders. His feet dangled above the ground for a few more painful seconds before he was thrown on top of the wide dinner table, facing upward. Within an instant, his opponent was standing right above him, holding him against the table with his foot on his neck, throttling him. All hope lost, Pettigrew was reduced to sobbing.

There was a look of utmost revulsion on the Avenger's face, who otherwise looked thrilled as he finally reached inside the inner garments of his battle robe for the knifes that were attached to a wide belt. He took out the first one and held it in front of Pettigrew's face.

"Want me to refresh your memory?" he asked, his voice ironically polite as he slowly leaned toward the Death Eater. After the tip of the knife poked the face and made it bleed, he moved it to the man's right shoulder.

"_You_ killed Cedric," he said matter-of-factly, and then stabbed the body part so harshly the crimson liquid splashed all over his face. The man screamed, but the calmed expression and voice of the attacker remained exactly the same.

"It's your fault Voldemort came back." He stabbed the man's other shoulder with another knife twice as hard, then took out two other knifes from his belt very slowly so he could listen to the Pettigrew's agony.

"Also..." he continued. "...It's all _your_ fault Sirius was sent to Azkaban."

He stabbed the man's right leg and moved the knife in circles inside of it, intensifying the screaming.

"...and most importantly, because of you, _my _parents were killed...I hope you haven't forgotten..."

He stabbed the remaining leg with such force the bone almost broke. And at that particular moment, the faces of his relatives came clearly into the Avenger's head, filling him with the deepest rage and hatred, all directed at the man right in front of him. As this happened, he could feel his power rushing through his veins, strengthening so suddenly that it projected outside the surface of his body, making him glow with the slight tinge of color of his magical aura, the same color that suddenly filled his murderous eyes.

"IT'S ALL YOUR BLOODY FAULT!" he bellowed into the man's face, then took the longest blade and pushed it into the man's chest, and his blood splashed all over the walls and table.

"I will reverse the terrible mistake I made years ago of letting you go!" screamed the Avenger, losing all of his calmness. Everything was getting darker around Pettigrew but his fear could no longer intensify. He somehow managed to whisper.

"T-They'll come."

"Can't wait!" yelled the Avenger with a crazed expression of excitement, and then he stood up straight, looking down at the dying man with shining eyes. He extended his arms and summoned every bit of magic inside him, silently commanding it to accumulate. He brought his right hand before him, his index and middle fingers pointing forward, and focused his mind on one goal. Light from his aura began to concentrate on the tip of his fingers, emanating from them and expanding outward.

Within seconds a sphere of blue light that looked like a very large flame surrounded his entire hand. It grew and intensified as he lifted up his arm and made a fist with his hand, sending all his strength and power to that body part.

The Avenger let out a cry of fury until the sphere almost burned his own skin, and then with the grace of a vampire he dropped down and directed his fist toward the man's chest. The fist went through the man's body and through the dinner table as well, leaving a perfectly unnatural hole across the flesh where he could see the floor below. A huge splash of blood and organs fell on the floor; for a moment the only noise in the room was the liquid falling against the surface. The Avenger stood up straight and watched the pool of scarlet liquid expand in every direction.

"That was a merciful death for you, Pettigrew."

His tone was now purely emotionless. He licked the blood on his hands and savored it with pleasure, then thought, _"Scourgify", _and the blood left on his entire body and garments vanished.

The Avenger closed his eyes for a few moments. With his mind's eye, he could see it; a large group of magical beings moved surprisingly fast toward him, like beams of light speeding though an invisible, magical web that connected all of their kind.

Grinning with delight, he lifted the hood up and his face became a shadow again. Then the room was filled with the combination of popping noises and the bangs of spells. The black smoke characteristic of Death Eater apparitions had created a dim cloud that encompassed them all, darkening the room. Many loud, arrogant voices screamed all kinds of vile, powerful spells that merely bounced off his supernatural body and left him unharmed. He didn't move an inch and allowed this to continue for a long time, laughing at the others' efforts to bring him down and enjoying the pleasure of possessing such strength.

"It's useless," he declared, his voice again inhuman and distorted by his charmed cloak. He lifted his hand and slapped off one of the beams of light, causing it to return as an intensified wave of color that made a handful of Death Eaters burst into pieces. The Avenger cackled excitedly as he created a long, whip-like beam of light that emanated from his fingers, and swung it around in a wide half-circle. Only three Death Eaters were able to Dissaparate in time before the beam hit; the other ten received the blow and a splash of crimson burst out of their bodies. Then they received another blow in the same spot but from the opposite direction, and were severed in half simultaneously.

The survivors were frozen in shock for one fatal moment; the whip-like beam had returned to its source and the light accumulated in the middle and index fingers. Bright specs of light came flying from all over the room toward the same spot, creating a shining blue sphere. The Avenger then pointed it at the pair of Death Eaters standing closest to each other, and the sphere expanded forward within an instant, blowing them into oblivion along with all the walls of the house behind them.

The remaining Death Eater stepped away from the destruction and threw curse after curse at the faceless figure using all his power, but to no effect. The Avenger turned to him and repeated the same movement, but shooting only a beam of light at one of his legs.

He reappeared right next to the fallen man. "Tell your lowly half-blood Master this," the Avenger declared before he disappeared from the scene. "Soon, I will make him squirm like the worm he is, and I will end you all forever!"

The Death Eater burst into blue flames that disappeared after a few seconds, leaving him screaming on the floor with very severe burns while still grabbing his newly severed limb. His agony was so intense he barely noticed when a new group of Death Eaters Apparated all around him. Then he saw the hideous, frightening face if his Master, looking down at him with narrowed, glowing red eyes.

"Who is the cause of this disgrace?" roared a furious Lord Voldemort.

"My Lord...the Slayer is powerful, indescribably powerful!" the fallen Death Eater managed to cry out hysterically. "He had no face, literally! He said he would destroy us all!"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The pitiful burnt man knew no more. Even with their masks on, the followers were unable to hide their horror.

"If you want to live, prove that you are useful to Lord Voldemort. Prove it to me _now!_"

They knew exactly what their Master meant; trembling, they turned and disappeared amongst clouds of black smoke.

* * *

His face was showing again. He had arrived at his destination surprisingly fast, even by vampiric standards.

Harry Potter made his way across the corridor that lead to the Common Room, barely aware of the Invisibility Cloak that replaced his supernatural ability to conceal himself. Still filled with adrenaline, he felt extremely proud of his progress. The tiredness he felt was nothing an additional dose of Enertentia or Re-Vitilizaing Potion couldn't fix right away. Yet he craved some peace and quiet if only for a little while. As he approached the entrance, he concentrated his powers and willed it to open as quietly as possible, without waking up the snoring Fat Lady.

He came in very slowly, concealed by the shadows, and took off his cloak only when he saw the room was empty except for one person; the only person he could be pleased was there, waiting for him faithfully.

"Hermione..." he whispered.

She immediately stood from her armchair and looked at him affectively. "Harry..."

"I wanted to talk to you in private..."

She looked worried about something, and she wasn't moving toward him like she always did, so he stopped. He could tell something was holding her back. The room was much darker than usual, and then he finally realized that there were many others hiding in its shadowy corners, seconds before they walked out of them and surrounded him from every direction. Many narrowed pairs of eyes - around ten, he could tell - were staring at him with great distrust and fear.

_Great._

"I'm so sorry Harry..." whispered Hermione. "There was nothing I could do..."

The Gryffindors were staring at him from head to toe like he was a monster, their faces expressing deep offense at something, but he didn't even bother to go into their minds to find out what. He looked at them with absolute indifference.

"What's your problem?" Harry asked indifferently, looking away.

"We're going to stop you now," declared Ron. "We're telling Dumbledore how you've been gone for so many nights in a row, and for so long."

He felt a tinge of worry. _Could they actually...?_

"You're supposed to be the leader of the Light, not the traitor! You can't fool us anymore," cried Parvati.

Already his concern began to melt away. His expression didn't change.

"We know what you are now. We believe Ron," said Seamus Finnegan. "Nothing else could be expected of your kind."

"I've always known," said Ron smugly. "Now it's _confirmed_. I've seen you with Malfoy - and NOW - just _look at you!_ WHAT THE HELL, Harry!" His expression was absolutely shocked and, again, he studied Harry from head to toe like he was wearing something deeply offensive. Harry ignored this. "How could you turn your back to us like this!"

There were sounds of approval from the people behind him. Internally, Harry smiled.

"It's in your very face," cried Lavender Brown with a brokenhearted expression. "_Anyone _could tell you've gone Dark. YOU, of all people! I can't believe Dumbledore hasn't done anything at all!"

"_I can't believe it took this long to understand why Draco always said Gryffindors were idiots," _thought Harry bitterly. Then, without uttering a single word, he walked right past Ron and all the others, completely disregarding their presence.

"OY, you disrespectful git!" yelled Ron. "At least tell us what you're playing at, wearing _that_?"

Harry continued to walk away. Then came Hermione's soft, pleasant voice.

"Harry, why are you wearing a Slytherin robe?"

Harry stopped, confused, and turned sideways to look into one of the mirrors on the wall. He had to blink a couple of times, suddenly feeling more than ever like a weak mortal for not noticing. He was wearing green and silver, instead of the usual scarlet and gold Hogwarts Uniform. He saw on his chest, instead of a lion, a large silver serpent. For a while he was lost in his thoughts, blocking out the irritating voices around him. He had never read all the books about Hogwarts Hermione always recommended, but at least he knew that this was definitely not normal...and he simply _couldn't_ have put on the wrong robes...as soon as he had returned to the castle, he changed back to his school robes, gave the Charmed Cloak to Henry -

"_Harry_!" squeaked a familiar voice, interrupting his musings. "Message from Dumbledore!"

The small boy next to him tried to hand him a roll of parchment, but it was unnecessary. Harry had already turned and left the common room, ignoring the angry calls and threats from the Gryffindors behind him. As he walked, he directed all his mind power toward his Maker and urged him to take care of their minds for him.

* * *

"_Changed_ to Slytherin House?" asked Severus Snape incredulously, unable to conceal his disapproval.

"I'm afraid so, Severus," answered Headmaster Dumbledore. Standing on the other side of the desk was an equally surprised Harry, still staring down at the awfully familiar and dirty Sorting hat.

"I thought it had given me the right to choose before..." whispered the student absent-mindedly while he attempted to communicate with it somehow, but without success. It remained silent and motionless, like any normal old hat, and Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry, studying him like he usually did from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"It has spoken," said Dumbledore in his trademark calmed, casual tone. "I'm afraid there is no way to know the reason behind this highly unusual and sudden change in Sorting. But we have no other choice but to follow the School Rules. From this day forth, Harry, you belong in Slytherin House. The rare magical transformation of your robes is further evidence of your change in Sorting."

On top of the Headmaster's desk were his other transformed robes, brought by the House Elves moments before. The silver serpents on them shone brightly under the light of numerous candles.

"Severus, take Mr. Potter - "

A very loud noise suddenly interrupted Dumbledore. With a puff of purple smoke he vanished from his chair and reappeared standing next to a table containing many of his strange silver objects. The one making all the noise was shaking violently, but as soon as the wizard held it up, it became still and quiet. It expanded to create an empty space in the middle, like a Wizard Projector, where an image suddenly appeared.

"Dumbledore, the attack is occurring _now_!" cried the face of Tonks, reflected within the strange object. "They're destroying Birmingham as we speak! The Auror Office has already sent the first squads."

"Contact as many members as you can and apparate in the city immediately," replied the leader of the Order, and the image faded away. Both Snape and Harry had gotten tense with the news, but Dumbledore, as always, remained perfectly calm.

"Harry, by all means, do not leave the castle," he ordered as he waved his hand and both his wand and his traveling cloak flew from the other side of the office into his hands. "Severus, inform the rest of the Order that they must report to the scene immediately."

Harry kept his best obedient expression as both the Headmaster and Severus Snape got out of his sight. Then he summoned all he could of his superior speed and went straight to the Room of Requirement.

* * *

The sky was completely covered with strange, dark mist and there was a distant but powerful sound, like that of an explosion.

"What was that, mommy?" cried a tiny child as she cowered behind her mother.

"Michael, Gaby, get over here, now!" called the mother, horrified as she saw humongous flames suddenly rise among the buildings of the city that was not too far away. Her two older children ran toward her and her husband, who took the little girl in his arms and ran along with his wife, who held the hands of the other two.

Scattered screams could be heard from the people that crowded the street as they ran out of the stores along with all the others, creating a stampede. Close by, some of them got into cars and raced away, and then the sound of car horns mixed with that of more explosions, which got closer with each passing moment, intensifying the chaotic atmosphere.

The family of five was merely feet away from their car when a perfectly unnatural sphere of flame collided with it and caused it to explode. The sound mixed with hysterical screams from all directions, as identical explosions happened all around. The couple held their children tight, desperately trying to protect them and incapable of understanding what went on. They could only cower, like all others, frozen with shock. Then they felt as, simultaneously, rose into the air very abruptly as if invisible cables attached to their shoulders were pulling them up.

"DADDY!" screamed the little girl.

"Hold on tight, dear!"

There was no way they could comprehend how they all floated in midair, above the supernatural scene below, and were surrounded individually by strange and shiny spheres of light. They screamed again as beams of lights of different colors collided with their shields and caused loud sounds like a gunshots, but left them unharmed nonetheless. The spheres seemed to absorb the attacking beams of light.

Below them, a crowd of scarlet robed individuals appeared to be fighting against black cloaked and masked figures. The wizards were dueling each other with all their strength, throwing and repelling curses very fast and reappearing in different places in the process, producing puffs of smoke and popping sounds and more explosions. The Muggles inside the protective shields observed everything with horror and amazement. Luckily for them, they remained protected during the entire battle. Finally, the scarlet robed people seemed to have triumphed with much difficulty. The masked ones disappeared one by one as they got wounded.

The Muggles were then brought down and the shields disappeared.

"Who are you?" cried the horror-stuck father as he held his daughter tighter, staring at the strange, robed individuals that surrounded him just like everyone else. The one directly in front of him was a dark haired female Auror and she gave him a polite smile in response, then lifted her wand toward him and said, "_Obliviate."_

The Aurors carefully placed the unconscious Muggles on the ground. The spell was cast on each and every one of them, giving the same result, and after a while, one voice was heard clearly above all the others.

"Squad leader, orders!" called out one of the Aurors from the farthest side of the street.

"Standby and confirm memory modifications!" replied the leader of the squad, who took out a magical device that looked like an small crystal ball and asked to be informed of further instructions from his superior.

"Report back immediately," ordered the face presented inside the device. "The powerful ones have now arrived - All fighters report to the city NOW!"

Within a second all the Aurors had vanished. The Muggles were left sitting on the street and sidewalks, looking around at the destruction around them with blank looks on their faces.

A few miles away, Tonks watched in complete shock as an entire 20-story building fell down on the spot, like it had turned to liquid. She raised her wand to deflect a ridiculously powerful curse that came at her in the form of a beam of light, straight from the Death Eater that floated above where the building had been. Her horror overwhelmed her shock as she realized that her wand was unable to restrain it and would soon burst.

"_Limit release_!" she cried, left with no other choice. Immediately she felt an electrical current run throughout her entire body, through her very veins, and she felt a numbing sensation. She used all her mind power to gather her strength and bellowed, "_Repelius!"_

The beam of light was reversed to its source, but the Death Eater easily dodged it. She reappeared in another spot an instant after her opponent had shot a sphere of flame at her. Hundreds of Aurors dueled Death Eaters all around the chaotic scene, all of them dodging and repelling unusually strong curses thrown at them with surprising speed. Then there came a sound so intense it drowned out all others; nearby, Tonks saw some of the tallest buildings fall forward like dominoes. The unfortunate muggles close to them ran away screaming, while the wizards Apparated away immediately.

A large group of Death Eaters riding brooms soared from behind the fallen buildings, their wands throwing many beams of light with each second in every direction they pointed at. Their speed was overwhelming and the majority of Aurors were forced to cast protective shields around them before they were able to counterattack. The one that led the group was immediately recognizable; her wild mane of black hair billowed as she soared above the others, cackling in her trademark fashion, and throwing curses so powerful they made small craters wherever they fell. He entire body appeared to be covered with a strange red mist.

Tonks reappeared on the other side of the avenue a second before one of Bellatrix's fearsome spells would have hit her.

"This is madness!" cried Tonks to the Auror beside her, who expressed his agreement but then they had to dodge yet another beam of light and separated.

The strong pulsing sensation in her body forced Tonks to apparate in a concealed place among the remains of buildings. She needed to catch her breath, and she cursed herself for getting tired so soon into the battle. "_What the hell are they?"_ she asked herself in anger and disbelief. Their curses were more powerful than any she's ever had to fight against and all of them came unusually fast. Also her body was already aching from the limit release.

Then a blast of light fell dangerously close to her, forcing her to re-enter the battle. Somehow she found her resolve; if she were to die in that place, it would be only after she's taken as many of them down with her. Among her comrades, she cried out with rage and attacked with every bit of magical power within her, using her apparition more effectively than ever to avoid the incoming attacks. At last, she brought one Death Eater down, and as the figure fell from the broom, she saw something horrifying farther down at the end of the avenue, where there was a canal.

It was a tidal wave as tall as the buildings that existed moments ago. It was growing upward, very unnaturally, and right above it flew Bellatrix, her wand pointing down at the water. A beam of light connected both things. The few muggles still left now ran from the newest threat, and the Death Eaters laughed out loud in delight but continued to attack the horror-struck Aurors. Less than a minute passed when the wave took form and came speeding toward the city.

They watched helplessly as it approached until an instantly recognizable silver-haired man in purple robes appeared directly in front of the wave and stopped it from moving any further; holding his wand up with both arms, he cast a powerful spell that caused the gigantic mass of water to draw back into the canal. Bellatrix roared Dumbledore's name furiously and jumped from her broom. She landed, growling furiously, on the surface of the water as if it was solid, the cloud that surrounded her becoming denser, and with quick hand movements she sent mass after mass of water of gigantic size toward the same target. The old man had to fire the same spell incredibly fast at each one in order to stop them, running back and forth on the edge of the city's concrete.

Then Dumbledore quickly cast a levitating charm on himself, apparated right next to Bellatrix and disarmed her with a spell. She was knocked down but when she collapsed the water merely softened her fall, and she stood up looking completely dry. Both were standing on the surface of the water of the canal, ten feet away from each other.

"WHAT?" shrieked Bellatrix at her opponent, her expression delirious. "I was going to stop the fires!" She threw her head back and cackled, then lifted her hands to show the Disarming spell had been useless. Dumbledore shot another spell but she disappeared under the surface of the water.

He pointed his wand at his feet and was lifted several feet up in the air. He waited for her to return by continuously checking in every direction, his wand ready to fight or defend. Then six different masses of water shaped like blades came at him incredibly fast from underneath, and he was able to dodge only half of them in time; the rest hit him so hard he was thrown back in the air and he had to wave his wand again to avoid sinking underneath the water like a rock. He was all but amazed at the display of ancient, elemental magic he was witnessing - so much that he began to fear for his life. Then he was forced to duel above the surface of the water with all his power, protecting himself at all times with a shield similar to a patronus. Bellatrix reappeared in different locations, continuously shooting a myriad of spells.

At the same time, the battle in the heart of the city was quickly worsening for the Aurors. There were already countless casualties from their side; most of the protective shields had proven too weak.

Tonks cried out one the name of one of her comrades as she watched him fall, despite her growing inability to breathe properly. Since she had returned to battle she had not been able to stop fighting with all her energy for one instant. The momentary distraction almost resulted in her death; she deflected the spell a little too late, and its sheer power knocked her back several feet until she collided against a pair of her comrades. They all crashed against part of a building on the other side of the street.

She was surprised she hadn't become unconscious, but the pain still prevented her from moving. She opened her eyes to find an arrogant, unscathed Death Eater standing in front of them, pointing his wand. He waived it and Disarmed all three Aurors.

"Worthless scum, feel our wrath!" he yelled with hatred. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

The Auror on the left was hit first with the green light; the spell was spoken again and the one right next to her became lifeless as well, everything happening too quickly for her injured, exhausted brain. When her time came the Death Eater paused to laugh at her first.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," he said with a disgustingly flirtatious tone. "_Avada_-"

A long beam of blue light severed the Death Eater's head at that exact moment, like some energetic sword made up of sheer magical aura. Tonks blinked and searched incredulously for the source of the strange looking attack.

She gasped.

Someone or something wearing dark garments was destroying each and every Death Eater in the exact same way, reappearing next to each one too fast for her eyes to follow. All she understood was that it possessed some overwhelming speed and that it decapitated the wizards by either swinging a hand surrounded by the same material as the previous beam of light, or firing it at a target from farther away, creating the beam-like structure she just saw. She could also tell the thing was faceless, and for one fleeting moment she though it was a Dementor.

All over the battlefield, the Aurors watched with the same shock and amazement, as the being they had assumed was the Slayer executed their opponents. None of them dared to move. Tonks managed to stand up, enduring much pain with every movement, but fell back on the floor after only a few steps. The limit release had strained every inch of her body way too much.

"_End limit release,"_ she whispered weakly and then stayed motionless on the ground. The strong pulsing sensation slowly receded.

Over at the canal, Bellatrix looked up at the sky. As soon as she saw the faceless being flying through the air in the midst of battle, she shrieked with terror and disappeared within a cloud of black smoke.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows with surprise. Still standing on the surface of the water, he looked at the dark figure in the sky and pointed his wand at it.

"_Revelio."_

In the tip of his wand appeared a cloud of blue light, with darker shades mixed into it. He took a glass vial from his robes and stored it inside with his wand. Then he looked back at the figure, as it shot blast after blast of light of the same color toward his opponents and sometimes destroying, like insects, various Death Eaters with just one shot.

"The power he displays does not match his magical aura..." Dumbledore whispered reflectively as he continued observing. "Interesting..."

The surviving Aurors standing in different parts of the city could only watch the being that had destroyed all the Death Eaters left on the scene - the Slayer, as they called it, had gone up very high into the sky, where all could see, and raised his right arm. Out of the index and middle fingers came a red beam that seemed like a normal wizard spell, and it rose even higher into the sky, close to where the Death Eaters had previously cast their Dark Mark.

Gigantic scales of justice, made up of glowing, bright red light, appeared right above the green skull. Because of the color it stood out so much, the Dark Mark seemed small and insignificant below the new attention-seeking symbol. Wizards and muggles alike were all bathed in its red glow, like some extraordinary eclipse, and were forced to place their hands on their foreheads in order to see it clearly. Then its creator vanished from sight.

Tonks also watched with amazement while she lay in the same spot, next to many pits of fire and the ashes of Death Eaters. She heard someone cry out her name.

Soon, Remus Lupin was holding her lovingly against him after he had thrown himself beside her.

"How do you feel?" he asked urgently.

"Pain and exhaustion...remnants of the power," she answered with a strained voice. "I was saved by that killer..."

"We all saw, but please be quiet and don't move. Healers are on their way to the city as we speak, I will carry you -"

"I failed," she whispered miserably, her eyelids heavy.

"No, you did not," Lupin assured her softly. "You maintained the limit release all that time. It's a miracle your body endured it."

"Sort of..." Lupin replied as she winced. She tried to sit up a little, but felt a sharp pain on her side that forced her to cry out softly.

"My love, stay still, please," urged Lupin, holding her against him and softly stroking her hair. "It's over...for now."

"I'm a weakling."

"Nonsense. You are young, but not by far weak." He embraced her carefully, making sure not to harm her.

Then they heard familiar popping sounds around them; two other members of the Order of The Phoenix had Apparated. All of them displayed various wounds from the battle. Near to them, the Aurors that finally recovered from their shock proceeded to extinguish the fires with their wands, immobilize muggles in order to modify their memories, and gather the bodies of the deceased.

"This is an outrage!" growled Moody as soon as he materialized. "How could those bastards achieve such high magical levels?"

"Yes, we must consult Snape," answered Lupin as he held Tonks in his arms and stood up, carrying her. "If their power increases again, next time we might not be able to..."

"No difference there, really," interrupted Kingsley, his voice filled with disappointment. "The Slayer won this battle, not us..."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they gazed at each other apprehensively. Then they looked up, almost simultaneously, at the glowing red scales floating in the sky next to the paling Dark Mark.


	11. Draco's Final Task

**X - Draco's Final Task**

* * *

Since Dementors no longer guarded it, Azkaban prison's reputation had suffered a huge blow; almost every day, a Death Eater escaped, and the entire wizarding community was aware of it. The few who remained inside the prison did so mostly out of fear of what awaited them outside. One of them was a man who sat on the edge of a very long table on one of the prison's Chambers, apparently waiting for a visitor to arrive.

Around him were long rows of tables that had armed wizard guards standing on each side, closely observing. The sound of a wizard newscast nearby mixed in with the continuous murmur of conversation that went on between the many pairs of prisoners and their respective visitors.

The man managed to keep his aristocratic elegance even as he wore an ugly prison uniform. His hair would have been impeccable but was now stringy and unkempt and he looked dirty. His total disgust at his surrounding remained present in his expression, but it quickly faded when a woman with very long blonde hair similar to his own entered the room. Dramatically different from all those around her, she reflected the same aristocratic vibe.

"Evening, darling," she drawled out snobbishly as she sat down. She leaned forward on the table and held his hand with both of hers, and after making a few comments in a low voice about the inefficiency of the "low class" guards of the prison, she reached inside her robes very discreetly and held her wand. Then she cast, nonverbally, an invisible shield around her and her husband that protected them from magical interference. The wizards around them continued their actions, failing to notice a change.

They maintained close eye contact as they conversed about their family, like most of those around them, but their minds were both focused on each other's thoughts.

"_My love, Lord Cunningham's success is evident," _thought Narcissa between sentences._ "His slayer is more powerful than ever, and at last you can see for yourself -" _

She moved her eyes to a spot on his left. Very discreetly, Lucius turned his head and looked at the three-dimensional image shown between the adjacent wands that composed the projector. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening as he saw, above the heads of the guards gathered around it, the image of a dark figure with long billowing garments holding out its arm in midair, next to destroyed buildings and huge flames, floating directly below gigantic red scales. Close to them, a copy of _The Daily Prophet _changed to show the same image on its front page. Lucius felt his chest swell as he saw the powerful Death Eaters receiving deadly blows from the black flash that was their killer.

"_The Slayer is truly Great...without a doubt, he _is_ the Chosen One" _thought Lucius as he continued to gaze at the scene with awe, his cold blue eyes shining dimly with pride, just as Narcissa's, who smiled with genuine happiness.

_"Soon will come Lord Cunningham's miracle, the moment when he shall regain his glory, and us - our freedom!" _

Lucius was unable to hide a little smirk as he stared, once again, at the gigantic red scales that concealed the Dark Mark in the sky.

"_Yes, the end of the Half-Blood is near...the Slayer is our only hope."_

_"He is," _agreed Narcissa. "_And also, today our son will be free of his tasks. Lord Cunningham has assured his success." _Her pretty smile radiated delight, and the one that appeared on Lucius was the same.

_"As soon as our Draco succeeds, come see me," _thought Lucius._ "This will be a day of glory for the Malfoy name."_

* * *

Neville Longbottom's face was distorted with the effort of gathering all his magical power. He desperately needed that spell to be as effective as possible.

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!"

His heart jumped with excitement as soon as he saw it knock away his opponent's wand.

"Ten points for Gryffindor," declared the duel's assigned teacher, Professor Flitwick, and the surrounding Gryffindors roared excitedly. Both dueling students withdrew to their respective sides of the dueling arena in order to their recollect magical power and wait for the next round.

"What?" asked Harry Potter as he gazed at his disappointed Slytherin Housemates. "It's Neville Longbottom. I can't go hard on him."

The group that heard his comment sniggered loudly and stared with amusement at the Gryffindor boy on the other side of the arena.

"It'll be like abusing a child," Harry added casually, loudly enough for all to hear. He got back his wand and went back to his dueling position on the center, the Slytherins behind him laughing raucously. Some of them pointed and made rude gestures.

"Harry Potter!" cried Neville, blushing with fury. He already sounded fatigued, which made Harry feel a little bit of pity. "Don't underestimate me!"

Right after they bowed to each other, Neville threw the first curse again with all his strength, his face red and sweaty. However, his opponent showed no sign of struggle; his face was fresh and even his school robes were impeccable. The curse seemed to fly at him in slow motion.

_"Don't pretend too much. It's also suspicious," _his Maker told him telepathically. Henry Cunningham observed the duel from the farthest corner of the room, his arms crossed. Acknowledging his warning, Harry decided to dodge the curse, making sure to move with normal human speed.

"Ten points for Slytherin. Eighty to Ten."

Neville, along with the Gryffindors nearby, all groaned loudly as the Slytherins jeered at them and cheered for their Housemate. The opponents stood again on opposite corners of the arena. Harry continued to stare in amusement at his ex-comrade, who gazed at him with burning resentment, which again made him remember what had happened less than a day before.

"_Why, you ask?" Henry Cunningham had answered innocently, looking up from his book for a second. Harry was standing on the threshold of the Slytherin Room he now shared with his two new roomates - Henry and Draco. "That's a dumb question. Because it'll be easier to work together this way."_

_The explanation had been predictably simple. His Maker was still reading as he continued. "I mean, it also helps now that the old man and his Order are trying to control you so much, and watch your every move - "_

"_Yeah, thanks a lot for reminding me of that," Harry had replied with bitter sarcasm._

"_Now it won't be as suspicious if they see you with us all the time. Because, you know, _we're in the same House_."_

"_I get it, alright!" Harry had answered, annoyed by the other's condescending tone. He couldn't help, however, feeling impressed at how luxuriously and comfortable the Slytherins lived compared to the Gryffindors - _two_ roommates only, and all the rooms twice as spacious? Leather armchairs? Chandeliers and ridiculously expensive carpets everywhere?_

Deep down inside, he wasn't fully satisfied with Henry's explanations. There was something mischievous in his eyes as he laughed. Yet the alliance was a solid fact, and a change of House meant nothing to him now. But for the other Hogwarts students, this was definitely not the case. As he experienced their reactions, he felt more than ever the huge gap that separated him from all of them, the inherent and crucial distinction between what he was and what they were. In their eyes, he might as well have marched with an army of Death Eaters, brandishing a Dark Mark, in front of them all. That is how he felt all the time he walked along with the other Slytherins down the corridors of the school.

"POTTER, YOU TRAITOR!"

Someone had interrupted his musings; the voice was instantly recognizable and it belonged to his new self-proclaimed enemy.

"Piss off, Weasley," snapped Harry disdainfully, not bothering to look at the source of the voice. The wizards behind him laughed again and proceeded with their usual taunts.

"QUIET!" ordered an irritated professor Flitwick. "Behave yourselves or lose points! Potter, Longbottom, assume your duel stances!"

Hermione couldn't remember a time when the Dueling Arena had been noisier. It sounded like a Quiddich Match was going on inside. She knew it had to do with Harry, which only increased her anxiety. She was literally the only student outside the Dueling Chamber.

She sat in a bench under a large oak tree, in a large yard that was connected to the closest part of the castle.

She was incredibly thankful she had been the first one in the Dueling Exam. This way she was able to sneak out right after her duel ended in order to satisfy the curiosity burning her inside. Her heart and her mind were both racing as she continued to search inside one of her favorite books: _Hogwarts, A History_.

She finally found what she was looking for. She read the excerpts that concerned her from Chapter Nine: Sorting.

..._The Sorting Hat's decision is based on the qualities the founders of each House looked for in a student. The decision is final and irreversible, yet the only known cases of re-Sorting have been due to dramatic changes in the student's personality and magical abilities...Even in its beginning, it was highly unusual for a student to be re-Sorted into another Hogwarts House after being chosen by one of the Founding Four...This was especially the case with Salazar Slytherin, the most selective and strict, who chose only those he considered extraordinary in his terms, not based solely on heritage or personality but also on raw abilities._

Right under the last sentence was an image she had overlooked before but now caught all her attention. It was a painting of a grim looking Salazar Slytherin standing with his first class of students gathered around him at his sides; all of them gave off the same aristocratic, menacing appearance that was so stereotypically Slytherin. Charming but sneering faces and sharp, cunning eyes all stared back, reflecting the same qualities as their leader. Looks of intense pride, even arrogance characterized all the expressions. Their grins made them seem like they shared a common secret.

For some reason this deeply bothered her. She felt like it appealed to the present time and knew something was going to go horribly wrong.

"_I can't believe Harry's hiding something from me_," she thought miserably. "_I need to know what is it_."

She looked around toward the side of the yard and saw that the Duel had apparently ended. Some students were leaving the Chamber from both sides and were walking across the yard toward the castle. She observed closely, waiting for a few moments.

Then she saw them; a group of laughing Slytherins walked out, including an indifferent looking Harry who was surrounded and being accosted by Hogwarts girls of different Houses. A snobbish Slytherin girl was holding on to his arm, sneering at all the others.

She felt a sudden stab of emotion on her chest, and immediately stood and began walking toward them. But then the atmosphere in the yard had darkened in an instant as soon as a group of Gryffindors came in through the opposite side. Both groups of students - Gryffindors and Slytherins - exchanged very negative looks as soon as they spotted each other, and they were getting closer together as they walked.

"Had a ball _Lord_ Mordorgoth, the new snobbish git?" sneered Ron as soon as he approached the newest Slytherin, eyeing him with utmost revulsion. Harry, on the other hand, chuckled contemptuously and made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Shut up, loser," snapped Draco Malfoy from next to Harry. He assumed his usual behavior and stepped in front of the Slytherins to counter Ron, who did the same with his own group. "Weasels speak only when spoken to."

Ron spluttered back an insult Malfoy ignored.

"Kneel before _true_ wizards, blood traitor," ordered the Slytherin. To everyone's surprise, he made Ron bow down so low, he hit the ground. Malfoy had pointed his wand at him with incredible speed without uttering a curse, the evidence of such skill alarming everyone. Harry quickly pulled Malfoy away by the arm, communicating his disapproval nonverbally.

"Come on, mate, he's just a waste of time," Harry sneered as he looked down at his former friend. "Let's go."

Ron mouthed the word _mate_ with eyes that expressed even more indignity and disgust. Harry took advantage of this and, without another word, brushed past him along with Malfoy, who was followed by Crabbe and Goyle, the latter bumping so hard against Ron that he fell back and hit his head against the ground. The other Slytherins sniggered and followed behind.

Hermione went to help Ron but a couple of Gryffindors beat her to it. Ron, blushing furiously, left so quickly she had no time to approach him, so she went back to her previous goal.

"I need to talk to you, Harry," she declared, standing bravely among the Slytherins as soon as she caught up to them. She looked straight into his eyes, disregarding all the unfriendly looks she was receiving.

"Alright," Harry answered simply. He shook off the hand of the Slytherin girl that was trying to flirt with him and followed Hermione, who had already turned and walked away.

The girl, Daphne Greengrass, scoffed in response and spat out with malice, "Why waste your time with a Mudblood?"

Some of them laughed, but Harry stopped.

"Don't say that again," he commanded with quiet anger, not bothering to look back. Then he resumed his pace after Hermione, who pretended she didn't hear a thing.

Hermione crossed the entire yard very quickly and went behind one of the castle's closest towers. She stopped when the Dueling Chamber was on the opposite side and the wall of stone in between, out of everyone's earshot and line of sight.

"What is it with you?" she asked angrily as soon as she turned to him.

"What do you mean?" replied Harry a little too coldly.

She let out a defiant laugh. "Are you serious? First of all, since _when_, Harry, have you been pals with _Malfoy_? Since _when_, exactly, have you become like him?"

He rolled his eyes and kept his apathetic expression.

"I mean, didn't you say you thought he was a Death Eater?"

When Harry merely shrugged, Hermione snorted with exasperation.

"Okay, that's not even the worst part..." she trailed off and took a deep breath. She needed to say so many things, she didn't know where to start. She even felt dizzy. Then his arms wrapped around her, locking her in an embrace, and the angry outburst absorbed in a matter of seconds.

"Calm down, 'Mione."

It was very relieving to hear him speak so tenderly and close to her, to feel the warmth she had missed so terribly.

"Okay..." she whispered. After a few moments, she thought she had gathered herself well enough to face him again. She held out the book she was holding on the marked page. "I want you to read this real quick."

She handed him the book and pointed at the paragraph.

"I _knew_ I had read it somewhere. I just had to check. What happened yesterday, Harry, it was practically a miracle. It's never happened before."

Harry's expression was hard to read. The only visible gesture was his slightly raised eyebrows.

"It's obvious there's something going on. You couldn't have become so powerful by yourself, and then you just suddenly got re-Sorted into _Slytherin_?"

He gave her back the book with a look of indifference.

"Honestly, Hermione, if you think this has changed anything, you're as thick as any of them," snapped Harry.

Caught off guard by his tone, she eyed him incredulously. "_What_?"

"It's trivial!"

"No it isn't, Harry!" she countered, the anger rising inside her again within an instant. "I know there's something you're not telling me!" she cried, tears already forming in her eyes before she could help it. "You can't expect me to ignore it especially after what went on yesterday, that _spectacle_!"

"Shh, are you mad?" Harry scolded, seizing her arm. "Lower your voice!"

"Who's training you?" Hermione demanded as she pulled her arm away.

"No one."

"Who's helping you?"

"I said, no one!"

"Stop lying!" She broke down crying.

"Aww come, 'Mione!," he pleaded desperately, but her cries only worsened. She alternated between squeezing him and hitting him, mad and confused. "Calm down, please!" he urged, his apathy gone.

She kept it going no matter what he said to her. The truth was, he didn't know what he could say to calm her. He didn't know exactly why she was this angry. He held her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.

"Hermione, I..."

"What?" she cried. "Why do you lie to me Harry?" Her lips trembled. "Why don't you trust me anymore?"

For a moment he only observed her red, bloated eyes and wet face. The pain in her eyes was unbearable to watch. He was desperate to say anything that would calm her, anything at all.

"Listen...I love you."

The words came out of his mouth before he realized it, but they had an immediate effect. Her cheeks instantly blushed and her overall expression of anger softened into one of shocked flattery.

He was still in shock at what had come out of his mouth when, all of the sudden, he felt her lips against his. As if obeying a natural instinct, he returned the gesture and moved his lips along with hers, holding her tightly by the waist. She moved her hands through his silky hair as they locked in a kiss that deepened each second and became intensely heated and passionate. Having lost track of time or reason completely, she felt herself become pinned against the wall of the castle behind her as their bodies locked together in a tight embrace.

But then they heard an annoyingly screechy voice.

"_Yuck! _Look, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin!"

They broke apart and saw two First Year girls quickly walking away, giggling and shooting glances back at them. The couple stared at each other's humiliated expressions.

"Why?" whispered Hermione with indignity, her face even hotter now after all the blushing. "_Why_ do these things always happen to us?"

Harry laughed softly in response, which sounded divine to her; she had missed his laughter incredibly.

"Well, it makes things more interesting, doesn't it?" he suggested with a smirk.

She laughed back nervously and her gaze dropped to the floor. There was an awkward pause in which she felt the momentary passionate, pleasant feeling melting away.

"If you really love me, why won't you tell me?" she whispered. She looked up at him again with the same tortured expression as before.

"I would if I could," he replied faintly, hesitantly, looking away at the distant mountains.

"Why can't you?"

"I made an Unbreakable Vow," he confessed. "I'm sorry."

"Whoever's training you is inside this school, isn't he? I bet he's disguised as a Slytherin."

She studied his expression as closely as possible but still couldn't detect the slightest indication of what he felt. She noticed how hard his flesh had become and how much he looked like a marble version of the friend she thought she knew so well.

He stayed quiet for a moment, his expression unchanging.

"I can't," he concluded, his voice barely audible.

A wave of great frustration took over Hermione and she stormed away, her heart beating rapidly. She held back fresh tears and the pain increased when she walked on without hearing him call out to her.

* * *

A few minutes later, Harry finished putting on a handsome wizard robe given to him as a gift and hanged his school robes in the wardrobe. He thought he would never wear Muggle clothing again.

"A fine Mordorgoth as yourself shouldn't have a mere mudblood as his girl, you know."

He turned and narrowed his eyes at Daphne Greengrass, who stood on the threshold of his room wearing a tight purple witch robe with a low-cut neckline. She walked in his direction seductively.

"Didn't I tell you to never say that again?" he warned her as she approached and stood a foot away from him.

"Uuuh, feisty are we?" she taunted flirtatiously, gazing heatedly at him.

Harry moved closer to her until they were inches away and she looked at him with a dazed, lustful expression. He touched her chin, tilting her head so she would keep looking into his eyes. With his free arm he pressed her against him by the waist, embracing her tightly. Her eyes widened with surprise and she leaned forward, eyes closed and lips parted, toward his mouth, but he moved his face away from her reach. Very swiftly, he bit the side of her neck, and she gasped. She was trapped in his embrace.

"You're a disgrace to all purebloods," he whispered against the tender flesh of her throat.

Harry felt her slap his shoulders and shake with fear, trying uselessly to free herself from him. He chuckled while he sucked more of her blood with precise speed; fast enough to keep her weak and speechless, but not so much that she would pass out. He drank until he felt he was sufficiently satisfied, then held her at arm's length and licked his bloody lips.

"Mmm, _aristocratic _blood," he whispered at her viciously. Daphne's eyes expressed nothing but horror, but she was so weak she couldn't make a sound.

He made the puncture wounds disappear after he placed his hand over them and thought the incantation. Then he moved the same hand over her face and whispered, "_Obliviate_."

Immediately her eyes became blank and he allowed her to fall limply on the floor. She tried to stand but her balance was awful and she fell against the other four-poster beds on the way out of the room, giggling loudly. She zigzagged out of the room so fast she crashed against a pair of Slytherin boys on the small corridor outside.

"Merlin, Daphne! Drunk so early?" taunted one of the boys, pushing her away slightly but still causing her to fall down. They laughed obnoxiously. Other Slytherins standing near their room's doorways with other Housemates - some of them drinking smuggled Butterbeers and Firewhisky - laughed along.

"Kiss my arse!" she snapped back, giggling uncontrollably. When she finally managed to stand, holding on to the nearest person, she fell flat on her face again. Their laughter increased even more.

"What exactly did you do to her?" inquired an absolutely thrilled Draco Malfoy, moments later as he and Harry left the Slytherin common room.

"Not much. We have work to do," replied Harry dismissively, and they walked on past the Dungeons and upstairs toward the main part of the castle.

* * *

"I need access to the Restricted Section for a Defense Against the Dark Arts research assignment."

"Subject?" answered the cold-looking librarian, peering at Hermione over square spectacles.

"Vampires."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Permission note?"

Hermione handed her the small roll of parchment, the letter from Professor Lupin she had fetched only moments before. She barely caught up to the teacher as he rushed out of his office that afternoon. She assumed he had an Order meeting, but she insisted it was urgent and begged him to do her the favor. She could still see his looks of worry when she tried to explain something similar to what was actually happening. She also had the impression that he saw right past all the modifications of the truth, but she had no time to over-analyze what she had said.

She was now standing on the center of the Restricted Section, where there was one large, round table with floating candles above it. She flicked her wand to simultaneously light the candles and then held it in front of her, pressing it with both hands. She concentrated on the questions she wanted answered and the specific subjects she wanted to read about, then said very firmly;

"_Recolligo materia_"

After a flash of light expanded throughout the room, books from all the tall racks flew out in her direction and landed on the table. She was surprised to see there were so many, and from so many sub-categories - Legends and Folklore, Remedies, Non-Human supernatural, Monsters, Necromancy...

For what seemed like hours she searched through the giant pile of books, for a few moments doubting she would find the answers she was seeking in less than a day. She re-read a paragraph from a book titled, _A Survey of the Vampire Race_

_With the passing years the physical characteristics of these creatures undergo dramatic transformations, which vary with each case. Some of the most common traits are: extremely pale skin, eyes that glow and long, sharp nails. For this reason, the oldest, most powerful vampires exhibit traits that make them easy to identify._

"Hmm..."

She knew the information was useful, and marked the page with one of the many bookmarks she brought along. She placed the book on the chair beside her and did the same with all others she thought had valuable information. A while later she spotted another old looking book that, at first, didn't know why it was there. But then she changed her mind when she spotted the section about vampirism.

"Although there is no known cure for vampirism, potions exist to subdue the lust for blood, daytime slumber or exhaustion, and even to 'humanize' some of their profoundly unnatural physical traits - _BINGO_!" she whispered excitedly, and quickly browsed through until she got to the part where the potions were explained.

One thing was obvious - the potions to change vampiric appearances were all hundreds of times more difficult to brew than the Polyjuice Potion. Curiously, each potion was designed for a specific trait, and was supposed to give a specific result for that trait, which was illustrated in a table diagram.

_Hair... Original color: Silver-White, Result: Light Brown. _

_Original color: Yellow-Orange , Result: Black-Dark Brown... _

The list went on with varying shades of each color for the vampire's original hair color and the potion's result. The same thing applied to eye color and even shade of skin. She immediately took out her wand and pointed it at those two very valuable pages of the book.

"_Effingo._"

With a flash of light appeared a parchment that was an exact copy of those pages. She did the same with every other piece of information she had found up to that point, and soon had a large pile of parchments lying on top of the myriad of opened books.

After she was done with this, she proceeded to investigate her next concern.

"Whoever is training him has to have direct access to Hogwarts somehow..." she whispered as she pushed away the books about vampires and gathered the ones about Hogwarts history, Dark Lords and their wars, legends and folklore. She decided she wanted information about Slytherin, and browsed inside a large book titled, _"Dark Lords throughout the ages"_

_The Dark Lord Slytherin._

The book explained the most popular legends of the controversial wizard, focusing, of course, on his dark post-Hogwarts life.

_According to legend, Slytherin had discovered the most essential secret of necromancy, a practice forbidden in his times and strongly frowned upon by the wizarding community and later discovered by Nicolas Flamel, the maker of the Sorceror's Stone. _

Her mouth fell open. Numbly, she pointed her wand at the book and reproduced a copy of the page without pausing her reading.

_His gathering of power was interrupted, however, before he reached his goal of establishing a new world order, where magical folk would rule the muggles and purebloods ruled the wizards. His former colleague, the wizard Godric Griffindor, vanquished Slytherin after two decades of warfare and unrest... _

On the bottom of the page, a particular image stood out immediately, just like the one in her Hogwarts book. She studied it closely.

It was a very intimidating being; highly unnatural looking yet humanoid, its skin was white as snow, its hair waist-long, very straight and silvery white, and its eyes were red as blood. It was holding a long device she assumed was a staff - a variant of a wizard wand that channeled much larger amount of power and energy - and wearing an elaborate red battle robe, the back of which billowed behind him like a cape. She read the paragraph underneath it.

_The Dark Lord Slytherin's closest follower and second-in-command was the pureblood Lord Asrael Underwood, who was believed to have undergone a magical transformation similar to his master that had also permanently altered his appearance. Extremely fierce and cunning, he was also unwaveringly loyal to his Master and his cause. It is believed that Godric Gryffindor also defeated him, along with Slytherin, in the year 1055._

Something on the back of her mind, perhaps her intuition, nagged at her to hurry up and put all the pieces of information together. It only took her a few moments to do so.

She suddenly felt like slapping herself when she realized she had overlooked something crucial from the start. As if in the middle of an epiphany, she snatched her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ and opened it on the marked page.

She stared at the image of Slytherin standing among his few selected students and gaped at it. Standing right next to Slytherin - on his right side - was a beautiful young man, possibly fifteen or sixteen years old, with flawless straight hair that fell in strands above his dark, round eyes, looking extremely charming even on such an old painting. The boy also looked awfully familiar; she couldn't understand why she hadn't noticed before. She placed the image of Lord Asriel next to it.

"Could that be...this bloke here is..." she breathed out, overwhelmed at what she had discovered.

_Platinum white hair becomes light brown... Bloody red eyes become..._

She checked the result on the _Remedies _book.

_Light brown..._

She gasped when the name finally came to her.

_Henry Cunningham!_

"Merlin's beard!" she cried, crestfallen and absolutely frightened.

_This is his Maker, this monster! No wonder Harry gained so much power in such a short time!_

She gathered all the parchment copies as fast as she could without damaging them, her head reeling with an avalanche of thoughts and emotions.

_Merlin, Harry, what have you gotten yourself into?_

* * *

"Excuse me!" breathed Hermione as she quickly brushed past a group of Fourth Years. She cursed the fact that there were still so many students walking around the halls at seven o' clock, most of them on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. She rushed down another one of the many long Hogwarts corridors and made her way through. A student called out to her after she bumped into him, but she only snapped back an apology and kept going, pressing the documents against her chest protectively.

She reached the main part of the castle - the huge moving staircases - and made her way up to the Seventh Floor toward the Headmaster's office. She prayed that Dumbledore had not left the castle and that she would have a chance to speak to him before he arrived at the Great Hall. She didn't care if they all thought she was insane - she stormed up the stairs using every bit of energy and strength in her body.

Finally he came into sight. She would have called out to him if she had sufficient air in her lungs. She had reached the Fourth Floor and Dumbledore was calmly walking down the stairs, apparently accompanying a guest. The man wore Auror garments and spoke quietly with the Headmaster while the latter answered looking over his shoulder, the staircase too crowded for them to walk side-by-side.

_Surely Dumbledore suspected this from the start. I have to tell him everything! _

Hermione was practically jumping two steps at a time. She almost reached the pair of wizards on the Sixth staircase, but before they were within earshot, Dumbledore violently jerked sideways and fell toward the abyss below.

Instantly paralyzed, Hermione blinked hard a couple of times, thinking she surely had hallucinated. But she had not.

Someone had come out running from the Sixth Floor corridor toward the part that connected the staircase to the one above it, crossing the threshold and slamming directly into the Headmaster so hard that the old man practically flew out into the huge, bottomless pit between the stairs.

A chill ran up Hermione's spine as horror took over. It had been Goyle who pushed Headmaster Dumbledore, and now the seemingly invincible wizard was flying headfirst down six floors, inexplicably unable to move. The portly Slytherin boy had an utterly insane expression and he immediately turned and ran down the staircases, growling like a madman, pushing everyone who stood in his way so harshly they were almost knocked toward the pit as well.

In the bottom floor nearby stood the object of Hermione's affection, who watched, along with his comrade Draco Malfoy, as the familiar purple robes quickly descended past each flight of stairs and the old man's helpless expression. Scattered screams came from the few who saw it and processed what just happened.

Discreetly, Harry Potter's lips curved into a tiny smile as he directed his thoughts into Draco's mind.

_Nice one. Both the Immobulus and the Imperio were impossible to detect. But you just _had _to overdo it like this, didn't you, bastard?_

Draco gazed at Harry for a second, unable to hide his smug grin before the two quickly parted ways. The vampire left in pursuit of the crazed Goyle, preparing himself to cast one hell of a Memory Charm.


	12. The Fall of Hogwarts

**XI - The Fall of Hogwarts**

_Fear not the flame of my love's candle. _

_Let it be the sun in your world of darkness._

(Evanescence - "Give Unto Me")

* * *

Again she was running.

Still frozen inside with horror at what she just witnessed, the only thing Hermione thought about was finding the first person that came to mind. Holding on even tighter to her documents, she reached the Faculty Tower in a minute, breathing heavily. She ignored the calls from one of the professors near the entrance and ran up the staircase. She stormed into the third office to the right.

"Professor Lupin!" she called immediately, but the room was empty. Her mind raced trying to figure out where he could be - then the door shut loudly behind her.

Her senses altered, she jumped up with alarm and dropped the documents, parchments flying in all directions of the small, cramped looking office. She instinctively turned to the door when she heard it bang.

"Hello, Granger."

She turned back and swiftly took out her wand, but just as suddenly, it flew out of her grip and into the hands of the person sitting casually on top of the teacher's desk.

"So, what do you think?" asked Henry Cunningham with a playful tone, his grin charming as always, yet menacing. Even amongst her horror Hermione couldn't help noticing how handsome and impeccable he was in his Slytherin uniform, strands of his silky brown hair gracefully falling over his dark, round eyes. "I assure you I look much more attractive in my transformed state. Those paintings are quite inaccurate."

"Where's professor Lupin?" demanded Hermione, her voice shaking as she backed away from the threatening creature before her. She gasped when the parchments all burst into flames and became ashes without a single movement from Henry.

"I'm sorry, clever girl," cooed the vampire, his grin darkening. "You must die now."

She gasped and bumped into the wall behind her. He burst out laughing; a loud, malicious laughter that gave her unpleasant chills. Her entire body was shaking so much she was sure her knees would bend at any moment.

"_Only_ joking," he teased, still chuckling. "I don't want to make your lover angry, do I?"

She gasped again when he reappeared right before her in the blink of an eye. He was so close she could feel his raw power, like electricity. She couldn't make a sound as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"...Yet I've always wondered what Muggle Born blood tastes like..."

He chuckled again and moved her hair away from her neck, pressing her against the wall with his strong body, his face slowly approaching the side of her neck.

Then a similarly powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him away from her.

"Master, stop this."

The tone of the voice was respectful but the eyes expressed only anger, which increased with Henry's reaction of mocking laughter. The other vampire pulled his Master away from Hermione and stood between them.

"It's about time you arrived, Romeo," taunted Henry. He shook off his fledgling's hand and patted him on the back. "I congratulate you on your most recent accomplishment. Now you know what you must do."

Henry gestured toward Hermione, whose eyes now expressed complete heartbreak and sorrow as her beloved turned to face her.

"Harry..." she whispered faintly, as if her pleads could somehow bring him back.

But she knew now that grim darkness had replaced the face of the one she loved, the glowing green eyes she had known for five long years. Despair took over her when she finally accepted that her love for him had always been a thick veil that clouded her vision completely, preventing her from noticing the true drastic change that had been occurring. Pain swelled inside her along with a flash of memories.

Very vividly, she saw the skinny, bespectacled eleven-year-old Harry Potter the first day of school; wimpy, innocent and lost as he stumbled across the wizarding world for the first time. She saw the young boy's ecstatic grin the day she had ran into the Great Hall completely healed, no longer a Petrified Statue, when they were only twelve years old. She saw numerous images within seconds of the past years, of all the shared holidays, birthdays, adventures, and accomplishments. She saw her beloved Harry, her best friend and significant other, smiling, laughing, and finally, giving her the most meaningful kiss she'd ever had.

But all the pretty memories vanished, permanently replaced with images of the powerful, merciless Slayer chopping Death Eaters in midair, and his cold, apathetic expression as he approached her at that moment.

Her eyes filled with tears and she wanted to move back and scream at the top of her lungs, but an invisible force prevented her from doing so. The raven-haired immortal in front of her gently caressed the side of her face. She knew no more and her limp body fell into his arms.

Still gently, he held her affectionately with one arm and placed his hand over her forehead.

_I'm sorry, Hermione._

_Obliviate. _

A flash of green light surrounded her head and then seemed to absorb into her. Harry remained in the same position for a while as he concentrated on every single detail, every single memory that had to be erased.

After the deed was done, he kept the unconscious girl wrapped in his arms and he smoothed her curly hair whispering, "I'm sorry..."

"She was cursed with the knowledge," stated Henry, watching the scene before him with a hint of sadness. "You undid your own mistake, young one. _No one_ must know the truth. Now come."

Harry held the girl tightly in his arms as he followed his Maker out of a window and into the forest outside.

* * *

"Ha-Ha! _Oh, Neville_! You are _so_ funny!" exclaimed a read-headed witch a little too loudly as she walked with two young wizards, each of them wrapped in one of her arms. "Honestly, you crack me up!"

"Ugh. Please kill me, Ron," whispered a morose looking Dean Thomas, the last of the group; his pace expressed his intense dread at having to stay close to the others for safety reasons. Ron looked at him and they exchanged exasperated looks.

The sun was begging to set, but the thick clouds made it seem like it already had. The street that led from Hogsmeade to the carriages that took them to Hogwarts looked eerie with the lack of light that resulted from the thick snow showers that fell. They were already late according to their school curfew, all thanks to Butterbeers and the anxiety that made them drink more than they should.

"Why has she become like this?" asked Dean.

"I don't know, mate. Just try to ignore them," answered Ron irritably. He had little patience for his sister's disgruntled ex-boyfriend, who treated Ron like his therapist. "It's like we're all cursed or something." Ron's expression darkened. "So many people changing, going mad..."

"Tell me about it," grumbled Dean, his eyes still locked on the obnoxious, flirty girl.

Right in front of him, Luna Lovegood gazed at him over her shoulder, her eyes filled with compassion. "Oh, I'm sorry about that Dean. Here." She handed him a muggle adhesive bandage. "Stick this on your chest. It will heal your heart."

Dean took her gift absent-mindedly, gazing at her with disbelief and amusement. Ron sniggered and he did the same, both shaking their heads at Luna.

"What? It's common knowledge that muggle remedies work in extraordinary ways for wizar- "

An extremely loud, unnatural roar made them instantly jump back in unison, terror overcoming their senses. Years of training caused them take out their wands and point before them, but what they saw froze them with shock nonetheless.

A huge canine monster had one of them pinned to the ground, tearing at the flesh savagely, blood splashing everywhere. Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finningan had been thrown to the ground - Seamus was unconscious from his head hitting a rock. Neville screamed desperately, and the other three joined. Unfortunately for them, the whole street appeared to be deserted.

A few seconds later one of them snapped out of it.

"GINNY!" bellowed Ron, and began to throw every single curse he knew at the monster, but the flashes of light merely bounced away and left the creature unaffected. What they did was make it angry.

It roared again even louder, and as the thing moved away from its prey and straightened up, a terrible realization dawned on them.

"This is impossible!" cried Dean, shaking with panic but still managing to throw curses at it like the others, not knowing what else to do. "It came out of nowhere! It's still _day_!"

The creature threw its head back and gave a long, frightening howl.

"Oh shit," whimpered Ron. "The whole world's gone mad!" Another realization suddenly hit him - this particular werewolf looked awfully familiar. The monster's hair was of the exact same shade of the only one he had ever seen, years before. And he also managed to notice something else - on the werewolf's chest was a large, bright red mark, still burning so intensely a strong smell of seething flesh reached his nostrils.

The monster advanced, but all they could do was throw useless curses and scream.

"STAY AWAY FROM THEM!" someone yelled from behind the monster and a rock hit the creature in the head very hard, making it roar again so close to Ron, Luna and Dean, that they had to cover their ears as they stepped back.

An almost crazed expression appeared on Neville Longbottom's face as he threw another rock with all his strength. "RUN!" he screamed at his friends. "TAKE SEAMUS AND GO, NOW!"

"Neville!" cried Luna. "Don't!"

"Come here you ugly beast!" bellowed Neville, and armed himself with a long, sharp knife he summoned with his wand. The werewolf turned and charged at his new target, who managed to keep his brave expression as he pointed his knife forward with both hands, his posture as grounded as possible.

"No! Neville!" screamed Luna, and she ran forward uttering an incantation - thick ropes flew from her wand and tightened around the beast, but it was too strong for them and they broke into pieces.

It was inevitable. The werewolf howled with pain as Neville thrust the blade inside its chest, but Neville also screamed with pain as the monster closed its jaw on his shoulder with brutal strength.

The scene was too horrible for the three wizards to pay attention to a small popping sound close to them.

A flash of bright purple light hit the monster on its side with a force strong enough to lift it off the ground and move it away several feet. The werewolf appeared to have been paralyzed, wrapped in the mysterious light that morphed into magical chains, and it floated above the ground eerily.

Before any of them could process this, a dark haired woman none of them had seen before ran toward the monster very fast and grabbed its paw. She waved her wand and disappeared behind a thick cloud of smoke along with the paralyzed werewolf.

The gusts of wind got stronger, covering the ghastly scene completely in white, the puddles of blood almost concealed. Luna screamed Neville's name again hysterically and ran to his side as fast as she could. Dean and Ron followed her automatically, still completely shocked.

"Oh, Merlin," cried Luna, tears falling down her cheeks. None of them had ever seen her like this before, so down to earth and distraught. She took off her coat and pushed it hard against the huge wound on Neville's shoulder, which had been completely visible behind a few shreds of his tattered coat. "Ron, take him to St. Mungo's!" she pleaded desperately. "You're the only one who's passed the test. He'll bleed to death. Take him now!"

"Y-Yes," stuttered Ron, trembling and definitely in no condition to concentrate on magic yet.

Dean noticed Ron's posture - it indicated he didn't want to look back and see the body that lay in the snow close to them. Unable to stop himself, Dean gazed at it for a moment. The pile of bloody flesh caused him to vomit. He sobbed uncontrollably, scarred for life.

Ron managed to pull himself together, and with a loud popping he and Neville disappeared, leaving the other two in the bitter cold, confused and miserable.

* * *

A group of Hogwarts staff members rushed into the Faculty Tower and gasped collectively. On the ground lay Professor Snape, eyes closed and his entire body as stiff as a board.

"Deputy Headmaster!"

Professor Sprout was the first to reach Snape's unconscious body. She kneeled next to him and uttered a long incantation and waved her wand across his body. After a few repetitions, he shifted and opened his eyes.

"What is all this?" asked professor Snape grumpily, still disabled with numbness. His mind felt blank. Very slowly, the ability to move returned to him and with Sprout's help, he managed to sit.

"You have been cursed, professor! There are enemies inside the castle," said Professor Slughorn from beside Sprout, visibly shaken. "Also, something terrible has happened."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Utter alarm crossed Snape's pale face for a split second before he was able to regain his composure, like he had abruptly woken up but his mind had not become fully alert. Then he managed to regain his usual cool composure. His entire body ached with stiffness.

"It's Headmaster Dumbledore," Sprout continued, her gaze and those of the staff members standing close to her full of misery. "A student attacked him - he's been thrown headfirst down the main staircase."

Snape's eyes widened dramatically. "Impossible!"

"Madam Pomfrey arrived as soon as she could, but it was useless," continued Mrs. Sprout, her face wet with tears. "He died instantly. The crazed boy ran outside of the castle. Professor Flitwick has gone after him. What shall we do with the students?"

With an air of determination, the new Hogwarts Headmaster stood up and dusted off his black robe.

"I must recast the castle's wards immediately," Snape declared, walking toward the Faculty chamber's exit, ignoring the pain caused by his rapid movement. "Professor Sprout, summon the prefects and order them to guide all students back to the Great Hall," he ordered urgently. "Professor Slughorn, gather all remaining students around the castle and bring them there. The rest of you go aid Professor Flitwick and contact the Ministry."

He had already crossed half the corridor outside when he finished. After every staff member had quickly departed, Snape finally allowed his true expression to surface, one of complete horror and confusion.

* * *

The level of noise inside the castle's main chamber was unbearable. The attempt to impose order within the chaos was almost useless - masses of students crowded around the lifeless body of the former Headmaster, all of them horrified and demanding to know what happened. Other groups of students in panic were arguing with prefects and staff members, demanding them to let them go home or someplace safe. The only thing that stopped this was a sudden loud bang that came from the middle of the chamber.

Finally, everyone became silent.

"ALRIGHT, CALM DOWN, EVERYONE!" bellowed a strange looking wizard with shabby clothes and a fake blue eye that most of the students recognized. His appearance caught every student's attention immediately, as he intended. "WE HAVE THIS UNDER CONTROL, YOU WILL BE PROTECTED. OBEY YOUR LEADERS AND ENTER THE GREAT HALL RIGHT NOW!"

The prefects repeated these orders to the masses of students, forcing them into the dining chamber. Little by little, groups of students calmed down and obeyed. Some of them were sobbing and had to be dragged away from the body, and a few had even fainted, so they were being carried off.

"Such a wise, powerful wizard," whispered Kingsley Shackelbolt, his expression deeply troubled as he observed the lifeless body of Headmaster Dumbledore. "Never would he imagine one of his students was capable of such evil..."

"Which has always been his downfall," growled Mad-Eye Moody, both of them with their wands drawn, scanning the room carefully. "If only he hadn't dismissed the possibility so quickly when Snape gave the report. I always knew something was kept hidden, some detail, at least..."

Another member of the Order of the Phoenix interrupted Mad-Eye's musings when she ran up to them, looking even more alarmed than everyone else. "No word from Lupin or Tonks! No one knows where they are!"

"Has the signal been sent again?" asked Kingsley.

"Yes, twice!"

"They must be under attack elsewhere," Mad-Eye assured her. "But no time for that now. Gather as many as possible. I fear a great battle approaches very soon." His magical eye was moving around rapidly, distractingly. "Lead a group of twenty on the grounds, immobilize anything that moves."

"Alright," responded the female Auror, a little disoriented. She went outside just as another group of Order members entered the chamber and joined the others with their wands drawn, watching their surrounding from every possible direction.

"You haven't felt it too, have you Kingsley?" asked Mad-Eye.

"Indeed. The wards have not been cast," stated Kingsley, suddenly even more apprehensive than before.

"That can only mean my suspicions will finally be proven true," declared Mad-Eye.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, Mad-Eye," snapped Kingsley. "With their level of power now, even Snape..."

Kingsley drifted off. Something he and all the other Aurors had sensed caused them to tense and raise their wands in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Oh no! The children!" yelled one of the Aurors, but it was too late.

Swirls of black smoke burst through the glass windows, bringing into the Great Hall gusts of winds as strong as a hurricane. The small tornadoes flew over the students, causing them to yell and throw themselves on the ground.

"Hold!" screamed Mad-Eye when some of the Aurors threw curses instinctively. "The students! Do not attack!"

The swirls of tornadoes touched ground in nine different places, revealing masked and robed Death Eaters. Eight of them stood in a semicircle around the Great Hall holding one student hostage each. The one in the middle stood between the Aurors and the students, on the Great Hall's threshold, holding a bloody and unconscious Severus Snape. All three pointed their wands right at their victim's heads. The students screamed and cowered on the floor.

"Release those innocent children!" demanded an Auror, outraged. They hadn't lowered their wands but didn't dare attack.

"Bring us Potter, and no children shall be harmed," boomed a cold, inhuman voice that resounded throughout the broad chamber. It didn't seem to originate from any of the Death Eaters in particular. "Fail to comply and their blood shall be spilt."

* * *

"My darling, here you will be safe. There will be no need to worry again."

The voice was extremely familiar but she couldn't identify it. It was the only sensation in addition to the intense peace that encompassed her. The sound of it was faint, distant, a mere whisper, yet she heard it clearly and her body responded. Her chest and stomach immediately filled with air and a ticklish feeling, like butterfly wings fluttering inside her. Nothing made sense to her except that beautiful sound. Slowly, she tried to open her eyes.

Her entire body felt weightless, like she was floating on a cloud. It was too hard to overcome the drowsiness and attempt to focus on her surroundings. The serenity felt so unbelievably good she didn't really try, and simply gave in. She wanted to remain like that forever, in a blessed dream.

Something soft and cool brushed against her cheekbone, and her hand moved to touch it. She gave into the embrace and wrapped her arms tighter around the one lying beside her, her eyes still closed. She felt something soft below her lips as she pressed them without any effort, and smelled the familiar scent of something she loved deeply. In her mind, that moment was the only thing that existed, the only thing that mattered.

The one wrapped in her arms gazed at her relaxed expression and brushed his lips very lightly on her closed eyelids. He still wore long, dark travel robes; he lay beside her in the same position after he placed her in the extremely comfortable bed. He admired the beauty of that huge sleeping chamber one more time as he smoothed Hermione's curls.

He was sure neither of them had experienced the comfort of such extravagant luxury, like that of royalty. He would think it impossible to be in such a place if it wasn't for his Maker. Harry was sure that Henry, in the course of ten centuries of supernatural existence, had easily gathered enough wealth to have a palace like this one in every continent of the world.

He remembered his Master's statement from a few minutes before, while they flew over treetops too quickly to be seen by any human, going deep into the forest and away from civilization.

_Our threats have been dealt with, and our secret kept. Soon we shall prevail. _

He sighed and placed his head on Hermione's chest, holding her tight. She would not be in danger again, he thought with elation, and that was the only thing that could worry him. His only link to humanity will be protected; she would be there when he needed her, so he wouldn't lose himself completely.

"I love you," Hermione whispered very softly, almost inaudibly, looking so still Harry knew she was dreaming again. He pressed his lips against her neck, her pleasant scent overcoming him so intensely he had to suppress, with all his strength, a number of different urges, both human and vampiric.

"I adore you," he responded, pressing his lips softly against her ear, and held her even tighter, protectively, although he knew that wasn't necessary. He enjoyed a few more minutes of watching her sleep. It would be the only pleasurable thing he would do for a long time.

He tried not to think of all the chaos that was surely happening at that moment in Hogwarts, all because of a boy people thought still existed.

But he was very much gone, Harry Potter, the one they knew as The Boy Who Lived.

At least, the one they thought they knew was lost forever.

"_The Snake Lord's plans are obvious and predictable," his Master had said a few hours earlier. The three Slytherin comrades were gathered inside the Room of Requirement, training and planning their next move. "The old man dies, the wards go down, and he captures his boy enemy," Henry continued. "So cute...he has no idea"_

"_Oh no! What will happen to our dear friends?" Draco had asked sarcastically. _

_They had laughed and laughed delightfully, sharing their most hateful thoughts about Lord Voldemort, the half-blood fool, the clueless wannabe. _

And yet, this only made Harry more desperate to end him already - to knock him down from the false pillar of fear people had placed him on. He didn't know his motivation had become purely vengeance, or if there was still any intention of protecting others from Lord Voldemort's evil. At that moment, he knew his classmates were fighting for their lives, facing the strongest opponents they had ever faced...

He closed his eyes for a moment.

He urged them to be strong, and yet, as much as he tried, his heart simply couldn't locate guilt at leaving them behind, even if it was for a moment, during such a chaotic time. He concentrated but couldn't grasp the concept of guilt anymore. And as he looked down at Hermione's peaceful expression, the only thing close to emotion that was present in his undead heart was satisfaction and a sense of triumph.

Nothing else mattered for now. It would all end soon.

But first, he needed to feed.

Harry bent forward slowly and pressed his lips softly against Hermione's forehead one last time. Then he carefully released her and stood from the bed. A second later he was gone.


	13. Trigger

**XII- Trigger **

* * *

Hermione Granger's eyes suddenly opened and panic invaded her instantly, her breathing becoming hard and fast. She didn't move her body immediately, yet she moved her eyes from left to right, making sure no one else was in that abnormally large bedroom. After she was sure she was alone, she jumped up, slightly dizzy, and then felt something hard hit her head. The marble floor was cold.

She smoothed her head and soon realized she had just experienced the side effect of breaking from a mind control spell. She had fallen from the tall, luxurious bed with red velvet sheets, the bed of a queen, and hit the dresser next to it. Every single thing that had happened to her came back like a flood of sudden memories. She attempted to control her breathing and be as silent as possible as she crawled on the floor until she could check again the rest of that spacious room filled with marble, gold and silk. She was still alone, and outside the crescent moon was shining brightly, no clouds were present in the sky.

She slowly stood up and pulled out a long, thin chain she had wrapped around her neck. It held a small silver container that she carefully opened. The herbs inside it had become black. The counter-spell had taken effect successfully, to her surprise and relief. She closed her eyes and concentrated for a few instants.

"_Accio wand."_

Her heart was still beating very hard and fast. A few seconds later, the door opened slightly and her wand came floating in and landed on her hand. She prepared herself for whatever might come to stop her, but nothing happened. She quickly put on her robes which were hanging on the wall near the bed, and opened the window.

Luckily, it was only a second story room. She took a deep breath and looked around the humongous backyard of the mansion but saw nothing but trees and many, many acres of nicely trimmed grass and bushes - the palace of an emperor. She pointed her wand at her legs and whispered a strengthening spell. Then she jumped.

She landed hard and fell on her knees, the pain much less than it should've been, then ran as fast as she could toward the nearby forest until thick trees concealed the view of the large, unknown manor. Her mind was focused on only one crucial goal.

_I must find Lupin._

Using her wand she cut a thick branch from one of the trees and enchanted it so it floated three feet in the air. An improvised broomstick.

Praying it will get her to her destination safely, she mounted it and kicked hard against the ground. She slowly rose, until the entire forest was beneath her, then sped across the sky, letting her own magical aura sensing tracker guide her.

* * *

By the time she reached her destination, she felt as if she had been covered with ice. Traveling far up in the sky on an improvised - and predictably, slow - broomstick would do that, especially in England. She was confused, though, because instead of Hogwarts, the place she had landed on was a wizard village a few miles away from the school. The houses were separated from each other by many acres, and her tracking device was pointing toward the most secluded house, a slightly deteriorated brick house at the end of the street.

Hermione checked her device again. On the middle of the crystal sphere she could see the misty color tone of the aura next to it, and they were identical. No matter what, Lupin was definitely inside that house for some reason.

She took out her wand and ran toward the brick house. It wasn't strange that the entire village seemed empty; most of the houses were abandoned, their owners probably dead due to the war. She hid behind an oak tree that was in front of the house and attempted to warm up for a moment, her stiff body an obvious deterrent to her battle abilities, should she need them. When her shaking subsided, she carefully approached using as much stealth as possible, wand ready. Only one of the rooms had light in it, and it was dim, apparently originating from a fireplace.

But nothing happened until she reached the front door. As soon as she was about two feet away from it, the door burst open and before she could react, a strange woman had grabbed her by the sleeve of her robe and had thrown her inside, slamming the door.

Hermione managed to disentangle herself from the woman's grip, her battle instinct surfacing, and she quickly pointed the wand at the woman's neck.

"Take it easy, Hermione," pleaded the strange dark haired woman, and then her entire appearance changed before her eyes. Her hair became violet and spiky, her skin fair, and instantly familiar.

"Tonks!"

"Yes. Put that away," the witch requested. "I just didn't want you to be seen."

"Okay, sorry..."

Hermione lowered her wand, surprised, but not as much as when she saw what was behind her ally.

Tied in very thick, magical chains was a large, gray werewolf, and it was completely immobilized. Its snout was also bound and on it's chest glowed a red, ancient symbol. It was the only thing on the entrance room of the house apart from one tattered couch and a lit fireplace.

Hermione gasped as soon as she saw it. "Oh Merlin..." She looked at Tonks with extreme sadness, quickly comprehending the situation, but at the same time, confused by it. "I'm so sorry..."

The witch with spiky violet hair had dark circles under her eyes and looked about a decade older.

"I don't know how it happened," Tonks said miserably. "I'm baffled! I've never seen anything like it and I've already tried _everything_ I know to undo it!" she cried, pacing back toward the fire. "I don't know what to do anymore!" Overwhelmed with despair, she fell on her knees and hanged her head, tears falling down.

Hermione walked toward the creature without realizing it, lost in her thoughts. Her eyes would not leave the symbol on the creature's chest, because it was so awfully familiar; she knew she had seen it that very same day while she was doing the research, before she had been kidnapped...

"Tonks, I have your answer," stated Hermione with confidence. "That is the work of Lord Asriel Underwood, Salazar Slytherin's second-in command and apprentice. He's the one who placed this permanent transformation seal on Lupin in order to silence him, but in the cruelest way. Instead of killing him, he did _this_."

She turned to Tonks. The witch was looking at her from the floor halfway through the room with disbelief. "What...did you just say?"

Hermione ran to her, suddenly filled with adrenaline. She grabbed Tonks's arm and forced her up. "Listen, I don't have time to explain everything now, but we _need_ to make this place safer with some wards, or go somewhere else, and make a plan," urged Hermione, panic invading her again. "Something more powerful than Voldemort is out there, Tonks! Slytherin's apprentice is an immortal, and he's plotting something terrible, I just know it!"

"Hermione, please calm down, you're not making any sense!" pleaded Tonks, her eyes wide with confusion and disbelief.

"I'm telling the truth!" cried Hermione, now trembling with fear at the memories of what had happened earlier that day. "If we don't put wards up now, I'm sure they'll find me again!"

"Who?"

"I told you! Asriel Underwood! And Harry! They're both evil!" cried Hermione desperately. "They kidnapped me and modified my mind but I managed to break out of the spell, and went looking for Lupin. They'll know I escaped and they're extremely powerful!"

"Hermione!" Tonks face was filled with worry. "You're delirious, please, calm down!"

"I'm not! Please believe me!" Hermione begged, and before she could stop it, she broke down crying.

Tonks held the young witch in her arms and attempted to comfort her. The teenager hadn't realized she had that much built up tension inside her, and when Tonks gave her the motherly warmth she hadn't received in ages, she couldn't do anything else but cry for the next minute. She could feel her human mind reaching a limit on how many traumatic moments it could endure.

Then, without warning, the entire front wall of the house exploded.

Hermione and Tonks instinctively screamed and backed into the wall at the end of the room, dodging most of the flying bricks. The adult witch immediately cast a large shield that covered both her and Hermione so the rest of the debris from the wall would bounce off.

Amongst the dust approached three hooded figures, two males wearing masks, and one female with an awfully familiar face.

"_Bellatrix," _hissed Tonks with hate.

The madwoman's typical cackles echoed against the remaining walls. When the dust dissipated, the two witches noticed the strange red smoke continuously coming from the Death Eater's mouth, ears and nose, her altered magical aura. Then the three dark figures began throwing a myriad of dark spells at them.

Hermione had reacted in time and cast another shield to reinforce the one Tonks created. Even so, the deadly spells that fell on them were unusually powerful, even for Death Eaters, and both witches were struggling immensely to keep the shields up.

"Our energies will be drained at this rate!" cried Hermione with a strained voice. The amount of magical power she needed to exert for the spell felt like she was trying to hold a huge boulder on her shoulders.

"They're...too...powerful!" answered Tonks, her knees slowly buckling.

"_That's riiiight!"_ squeaked Bellatrix, her eyes wide with pleasure and her mouth contorted into a maniacal grin. "Be crushed you filthy Mudblood! You were _too_ easy to track! And you can't hide in there foreveerrr! Mheeh hehh hehhh!"

The rain of spells falling on the double shield was about to break through. Both Hermione and Tonks were almost on their knees, their wands quickly becoming impossibly heavy.

Then, within a few seconds, the dark spells stopped completely. Their sudden disappearance made both Hermione and Tonks fall down backwards and the double shield immediately disappeared. Both women were panting as they looked at the scene in front of them with shock.

Two of the Death Eaters were now mangled corpses laying in a pool of blood.

The third Death Eater, Bellatrix, appeared to be floating, her eyes the widest they had ever been, her mouth hanging open. But as Hermione studied her closely, she realized the hated woman wasn't floating at all. There was someone right behind her, and, protruding from her chest was a hand, covered in blood and grasping the woman's heart.

Hermione's froze inside with intense dread and horror - more than when the Death Eaters appeared. She watched helplessly, her body drained of energy, as the hand that had broken through Bellatrix's chest quickly moved inside and the woman's body fell facedown on the floor.

Right behind it stood a fearsome, black haired wizard-vampire, as pale as ever and wearing a long, black, elegant wizard robe and cloak, hood down. In his right hand he held Bellatrix's bloody heart. He looked down at the corpse and chuckled with satisfaction. "You won't get away this time," he taunted with a sinister smile.

"_Harry?_" inquired Tonks, stunned beyond comprehension.

He gazed at the woman and smiled politely, his bright green eyes too unnatural for the expression to look anything but frightening. "Hello, Tonks," greeted Harry nonchalantly, his voice soft and elegant. "But please, call me Mordorgoth now. No more commoner name for me."

Hermione's mind snapped away from the shock and she raised her wand at him - but before she even thought about an incantation both her wand and Tonks flew into Harry's empty hand, which he had extended forward an instant before. Tonks looked at Hermione, speechless with horror, then back at the vampire.

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk. _That was _not_ a nice way to thank your savior, sweetheart," scolded Harry with a condescending tone. He bit into the heart on his hand and drank from it.

Tonks looked like she might faint any second, and Hermione was angrily glaring at the vampire.

"Someone...please explain..." stuttered Tonks, clearly baffled.

"He was made by the immortal I told you about. He's the next apprentice," explained Hermione through gritted teeth. "The Harry you knew is gone."

Harry threw the heart aside as soon as it became dry, then wiped the blood off his hands using the cloak of Bellatrix's corpse. "She's right, Tonks. I'm an improved version now. That's why I recently decided to change my name into a superior one," stated Harry, his tone calm yet menacing. He gracefully straightened up and slowly approached the two fallen witches. "Mordorgoth is my _pureblood_ mother Lily's surname."

Hermione looked like she wanted nothing else but the ability to attack, but her entire body felt like stone. Tonks was still staring at the approaching immortal with complete horror, and it was evident her body was even more incapable of motion.

"Forget whatever lies Hermione told you," Harry warned. "She's been under a lot of stress lately."

"I did _not_ lie," Hermione snapped. "Everything _he_ says is a lie, Tonks. He's been brainwashed by his Maker!"

Harry laughed softly. "Brainwashed? _Now_ you offended me."

"How can you follow someone evil enough to to this to Lupin?" Hermione cried, and she pointed at the immobilized werewolf still bound at the back of the room. "You're as horrible as Voldermort, or worse!"

"_Worse_ than Voldemort, you say?" inquired Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Then explain to me why you're still alive."

The girl didn't reply, but merely kept glaring at him. The vampire knelt in one knee before her and grabbed her arm, his anger evident for the first time.

"Explain to me why I haven't killed you yet, if I'm worse than Voldemort," he demanded. "You can't. Because I saved you the same way I've saved countless ungrateful beings like you. You were safe in that manor. _Why_ did you escape?"

"You _kidnapped_ me!" she screamed, her eyes burning. "How dare you!"

"I wanted to protect you, you stubborn girl!" he screamed back, his face suddenly human again. "You are the only one I care about, and now you betray me!"

"You don't know how to care for someone anymore," cried Hermione, tears forming in her eyes. "You are something else, and it's all my fault. The day I let you feed off me was the beginning of the end. The Harry I love is dead because of me, and now what is before me is nothing but a monster..." she sobbed, her voice weak and miserable.

Harry stared at her in silence as she sobbed bitterly before him, blood tears slowly forming in his eyes

"Hermione..." For a moment, his voice had returned to the previous one, the one that had belonged to the mortal Harry Potter. "I'm sorry..."

Then he felt an excruciating pain in his chest, the blow so sudden and unexpected he hadn't even sensed where it was originating from. He cursed mentally, angry that the moment of distraction had occurred at the worst possible time. He felt even worse when he noticed that the bright yellow beam of light that had pierced him had pierced Hermione's shoulder, her eyes wide with the same shock he felt.

The light withdrew and Hermione fell forward against Harry, and he instinctively held her in his arms, stunned.

A familiar cold, high laugh resounded from somewhere behind him.

"At last!" exclaimed Lord Voldemort. "The Boy Who Lived is _gone_!" He gloated in his victory as he stood over the fallen wall of the house, a long, thin figure rocking with laughter like a madman.

But Harry could care less about the Dark Lord's presence at that moment. Already he could feel his wound healing, but when he looked at Hermione's face as she lay in his arms, he saw the weakness taking over her alarmingly fast.

Even at that moment, she managed to slightly move her lips and whisper.

"I...love..."

Unable to finish her sentence in time, her eyes closed. Her body became limp and one last tear ran down her cheek and fell on Harry's hand.

He froze completely, staring in disbelief at the motionless body of Hermione. He could hear the cold, high laugh behind him but it sounded faraway, distant...unimportant. An an overflow of sudden emotion reached his undead heart, the sensation intense and unfamiliar. Something deep inside his soul was about to snap. Only one clear thought remained present inside his mind.

_No more._

"Oh, _yes_!" kept boasting Voldemort, and he pointed at Tonks, who's mouth hanged open in horror. "Let you be the witness, witch, I am victorious, _I _am the supreme ruler-"

Voldemort yelped with surprise when he was hit with extremely powerful gusts of wind. Originating from Harry's body were thick clouds of pure black smoke, twirling as fast as a tornado, and sending pieces of debris flying in all directions. Tonks was thrown against the wall right beside the werewolf, and Lord Voldemort was thrown back several feet, but immediately stood after he cast a shield of protection around himself.

His unnatural red eyes glowed with anger yet his face was contorted in a maniacal expression, both surprised, angry, and thrilled at the unexpected threat before him.

The one he called The Boy Who Lived slowly stood, his body a mere shape within the blackness. The ferocity of the winds did not subside as he turned his head over his shoulder and revealed two intensely bright red eyes, much brighter than Voldemort's.

The Dark Lord cackled and assumed a dueling position. "At last, a worthy opponent!" he yelled with feigned excitement, failing to hide his fear. "You will fall before me as well, _slayer_!"


	14. Henry's Goal: The Seal of Gryffindor

**XIII - Henry's Goal: The Seal of Gryffindor**

* * *

The gusts of wind were ridiculously strong, so much that only Lord Voldemort was able to stand before it, and that was with a very powerful, multi-layered magical shield around him. The snake-like Lord's face contorted into a fierce glare as he observed the figure before him slowly turn to face him, its eyes glowing like two red flames.

Nearby, Tonks attempted to crawl against the overwhelming force, toward Hermione's fallen body. She had to place her arm above her eyebrows as she did so because all of the sudden, the dark clouds had become blinding yellow light. She reached out with her free hand, tears falling from her eyes.

"Hermione, I won't let you die like this," Tonks choked, tears falling down her cheeks, still unable to reach the body or accept what she had just witnessed. "You can't be dead. You just _can't_." And then there was a loud bang and Tonks was violently thrown into the air along with the debris from the last, unbroken wall of the building.

Lord Voldemort had immediately channeled all of his power toward his magical shield, and was merely knocked off his feet by the sudden explosion. He cursed and stood again fast, only to find himself baffled once again.

That couldn't be Harry Potter.

Where the boy had been standing a second before the bright light came, now stood an unrecognizable chalk-white being with long, silky red hair that looked like the flames on his eyes. The pure black aura that emanated from the being was so intense that it was clearly visible throughout his entire body. It was flowing dramatically all around him like a cloud of smoke - a physical manifestation of the most passionate hatred and anger.

Unable to stop himself, Lord Voldemort's jaw dropped. He knew what this creature was, but it wasn't possible, it _couldn't_ be! And then Voldemort realized his moment of shock and distraction would be his downfall as he heard the being speak with a godlike voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"_Diabolus Ludere."_

Voldemort instinctively held up his wand-less hand and thought out an incantation, but the black aura extended toward him, like a giant tentacle, and it broke through his most powerful shield.

"Impossible!" Voldemort screamed, enraged. The aura felt like fire against the palm of his hand as he attempted to deflect the spell, but it was useless, and the flesh was burning away fast. Lord Voldermort screamed again, half from pain and half from outrage.

The blackest aura Voldemort had ever seen went through his hand and grew within an instant to cover his entire body. Everything went just as black and Voldemort felt his unnatural heart give one suddenly painful, powerful beat.

And then he experienced something he had been completely unfamiliar with - he had lost control of his surroundings, a sensation that only enraged him even more.

For a few seconds, Lord Voldemort was floating in the middle of dark empty space, no floor beneath him. He looked around in confusion, cursing angrily, and then he was falling extremely fast. The force pulling him down was so intense that he could barely hear his own scream. Then was sure he had been blown into pieces - he crashed at the end of the seemingly eternal, dark abyss below, and amazingly, was still conscious. The entire place he had landed on was convoluted and strange, the skies blood red, the ground black. It was all like a terrible nightmare, yet another thing the Dark Lord was unfamiliar with.

_You like to curse, don't you half-blood?_

Voldemort hissed angrily at the voice, because it was more frightening than his ever was, and it was so loud inside his head that he was sure it would burst. Then the same sinister creature appeared before him, but there were hundreds of the exact same being, all floating in midair around him.

_I will make you feel all the pain you have inflicted._

Again that terrible voice that originated from all of them at once was so much colder; the being had more malice than even he, Lord Voldermort, had ever felt. Soon all the figures raised their palms, simultaneously, toward him and chanted, "Crucio!"

Voldemort could only scream like he had never screamed before.

The variety of sensations was too much for him to process, and he was sure his body had been instantly melted, chopped, twisted and burned at the same time. He lost all sense of self, and could only hear the horrified screams, not believing they were originating from his own mouth.

_Does that feel good, you scum?_

The voice mocking him would have enraged him at any other time, but Lord Voldemort had simply never experienced such intense agony before, and his mind was completely clouded. He was surrounded with lights that came from all directions, so many Cruciatus Curses at once that he knew it would be impossible to inflict this much pain in real life.

It felt to him like hours had passed this way before something finally stirred deep down inside him.

It was a completely unfamiliar feeling; he did not know how to identify it. Amongst the myriad of agonizing sensations, an understanding finally came to him. As his body twitched on the unnatural ground, without controlling it, he was begging for mercy.

His Dark Lord voice was so pathetic; the shame only could have actually killed him. "PLEASE!" he bellowed. "MAKE IT STOP!"

Cruel laughs similar to his own came from all the figures surrounding him. The one floating right before him grinned at him, bloodthirsty, and raised his hand over his ear, tilting his head toward Voldemort mockingly.

"What was that?" the wizard-vampire asked, the voice emanating only from that one figure. The rest of them were still laughing, the cursed beams of light still emanating from their palms. "Ask again."

"STOP THIS!" screamed Voldemort, the light of the curses and the pain blinding him.

"Ask nicely," cooed the wizard-vampire, his smile widening. Then he raised his palm toward Lord Voldemort and another much brighter, and red, beam of light came out from it, and the moment it made contact, Voldermort knew it was over.

It was impossible.

Somehow, the pain was ten times worse than before. Before, he had no idea what it was to feel something like it. He was gone from reality, all sense of identity lost. All he could know was the pain. He begged but it was useless. He could hear what he was screaming, but his brain was in so much agony he could no longer understand that it was he who was speaking those words.

"Please! STOP! I didn't know! I didn't know how it was!" More and more ear splitting screams. "I didn't know it was like this! Please make it stop! I will never cause pain again! Please!"

Then it all stopped so abruptly, Voldemort yelped with surprise. He was curled on the floor in a fetal position, shaking uncontrollably, sobbing, his face wet with unnatural tears. He screamed as soon as he saw the wizard-vampire stand close to him, smiling down at him.

Voldemort crawled away from the horrible being, wailing, his eyes wide with terror as he watched his attacker slowly approach him. He was still in so much pain that he hadn't noticed the surroundings had changed. They were back on the ruined house, and Voldemort was crawling over the debris, unable to stand, his limbs extremely weak and sore.

"You will never cause pain again, you say?" mocked the being, now just one, his voice condescending and full of venom. "Oh, how surprising! Are you redeemable then, half-blood?" The wizard-vampire still slowly approached the pathetic, retreating figure of Lord Voldemort, savoring each moment. "Why should I spare you?"

"P- Please," replied Voldemort, each movement feeling like it would cost him a limb. "Forgive me," he begged.

The wizard-vampire kept his delighted smile as he finally reached down and grabbed Lord Voldemort by the collar of his robe, effortlessly lifting him above the ground. "Why should I forgive you?" the attacker asked coldly, his red eyes glowing with hatred.

"B - Because I - I won't do it again," begged Voldemort, his voice shaking from weakness and terror. "I swear, n - now I know w - what it's like... p - please, spare me."

The attacker threw his head back and laughed loudly and cruelly, his grip tightening. "You know what it felt like for all your victims now?" he sneered. "It was about time."

"S - Show me mercy," pleaded Voldemort, limp and powerless.

The wizard-vampire's smile grew, and became even more bloodthirsty than before. "Alright, I'll show you mercy," he cooed softly, deceivingly, but then the tone changed into one of pure hatred, a savage growl. "The same mercy you showed all your victims, you filthy rat!"

Voldemort's eyes were unable to register the movement.

Before he knew it, there was an extremely sharp pain on the side of his neck. The wizard-vampire's fangs were buried deep inside the abnormally white flesh of Lord Voldemort, the bite so hard it should have broken his neck.

The liquid inside was odd, unlike any human's blood, yet warm. The vampire consumed it like any other delicious meal, gush after gush, the unnatural pull on the veins completely paralyzing Lord Voldemort's body.

And at that moment the vampire Harry understood everything about Voldemort's life, from early childhood until the present day.

He saw and understood all of the half-blood's passions, about his wretched quest for power and immortality, especially the years before his rise to power as a Dark Lord. Within a few seconds, he witnessed all of Voldermort's struggles and determined efforts to find one wise enough, powerful enough, to teach him what he wanted...

And then, amongst the ocean of rapid images only a vampire's mind could comprehend, Harry saw Henry Cunningham.

His attention immediately focused, for an instant, on a few select memories.

The images revealed his Maker standing beside a young and human Tom Riddle in front of a real-life sized statue of Salazar Slytherin in a dueling stance. The white marble was crafted into perfection to show all of the famous wizard's well-known attributes; the long beard and straight long hair, the severe looking eyes and strong jaw. An intimidating man even in stone. Riddle was kneeling before it, beaming with amazement, while Henry Cunningham watched him with a mischievous smirk.

_"Lord Cunningham," Riddle was whispering excitedly, his fanatical gaze focused only on the statue. "Thank you! This is perfect! The Great Lord's most valued possession shall be my Horcrux at last!" He had his arms raised toward it reverently._

_"Perform the ritual flawlessly, my apprentice, and you shall achieve what no mortal wizard has before," declared Henry, his grin widening. How the poor half-blood had stubbornly begged to be turned, only to be refused every time until he had no choice but to look for immortality elsewhere. How he, Henry, savored each moment of Riddle's struggle - all evident on his expression._

Harry was suddenly horror-struck. Henry had helped Voldemort? Why on earth would he do _that_? He suddenly felt ashamed at not having known better. He should have trusted his gut feeling about the most cunning of all Slytherins.

But then he was distracted from the variety of emotions that came to him. The next set of images showed Voldemort's Horcrux ritual and how the core of his being, in the form of his dark aura, had extended to envelop the majestic statue. He saw the strange, ancient rune that shone, for only a second, on the statue's chest, right at the end of the long ritual, after Riddle had stabbed a helpless muggle in the chest to finalize the darkest of evil spells.

All of the sudden, Harry felt something he had never felt before while feeding, like he had been completely merged with Voldermort - to his intense disgust. There was something tying him to the hated half-blood, something he couldn't fully comprehend or control.

Harry suddenly panicked. He had lost sense of time or of his surroundings. He couldn't stop the feeding, and he knew Lord Voldemort's unnatural life was fading, but even so, he couldn't move, his fangs still inside the flesh. His chest hurt, and there was a strong tug, as if by feeding from Voldemort he was feeding from himself, but he knew it was impossible. He stopped sucking the blood but he knew his aura was somehow leaving him, inexplicably, along with the fading life force of Lord Voldermort, floating, soaring above both of their bodies...

And then, without warning, Harry felt as if his aura had returned to him so abruptly he was knocked backwards. He fell hard on the ground, suddenly blind with pain and completely disoriented.

But even amidst the shock and confusion, Harry immediately noticed something had changed. The ground was no longer a terrain filled with debris. It was a smooth and cold stone floor.

* * *

Harry felt like his body was on fire.

He tried to focus on where he was, but his vision was blurry. His chest was inexplicably sore, as if a part of him had been ripped off. He looked at his hands but could only see them clearly when they were a few inches away from his eyes. The color had gone from chalk white to his usual fair skin, and he felt the long mane of hair that had appeared before shrink back to its previous length. Something in front of him was making a loud whooshing noise and originating a strong, white light. In that same direction, something was drawing him closer, like a magnetic pull, and a powerful wind blew from behind him. The painful heat was going away but instead leaving him feeling strangely singed from the inside. Harry blinked hard, crouching on the floor, until he finally managed to see what was happening before him.

Lord Voldermort was a mere dried up husk, lifeless, and floating in midair before Harry. The same rune from the Horcrux ritual was shining brightly above his chest, the color pure black, and immediately Harry knew that it was composed of his own, pure black magical aura. A few seconds later, the rune expanded and the body burst into dust that was immediately dispersed by the wind.

But before Harry could process what he saw behind it, the light intensified exponentially and the magnetic pull disappeared. Instinctively, he covered his eyes with the sleeve of his robe and summoned all his remaining strength. He stood up and backed away, against the strong unnatural winds that seemed to move around like a tornado.

Then a remarkably strong hand seized his shoulder and forced him to kneel.

Startled, Harry disentangled himself from the hold and saw that Henry Cunningham was also kneeling right beside him, a smug, euphoric smile on his handsome face. Harry felt his power had been almost completely drained and realized, to his intense annoyance, that an attack would be useless.

"You succeeded," his Maker told him, his smile growing. "Congratulations. Now watch," he ordered, gesturing forward with his chin.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded angrily. Every movement he attempted sent a wave of pain throughout his entire body. "What did you do?"

"Calm down and sit still," insisted Henry, holding Harry down by the arm. "All will become clear very soon. For now, observe quietly."

Amongst the confusion and the bright light before him, Harry managed to take in some of his surroundings.

He was inside the Chamber of Secrets.

They were on the center of the large, dark chamber. It was an underground atrium that led to many narrow passages, and on each side there were about twenty huge serpent statues, all lined up and baring their fangs. Right in front of him was the end of the Chamber's main passageway, the place where he knew there was a very huge, carved out face of Salazar Slytherin, out of which a huge basilisk had come out to attack him a few years before. Only that this time, there was something else right in front of it, a silhouette that seemed to be the source of the light and the gusts of wind. It looked humanoid, but it was completely still - like stone - a shadow within the bright light.

Then Harry noticed that there were two others.

A few feet beside Henry knelt Draco Malfoy, and next to him, Ginny Weasley.

_Ginny?_

Caught off guard by her presence, Harry shot her a quizzical look, but soon noticed the terrified expression on her face. As soon as she met his gaze her eyes became even wider.

"Harry!" she cried desperately and moved to stand, but Draco seized her arm and pulled her back down to her knees. Her face was wet with tears, her entire body shivering, and her eyes moving around her surroundings with intense horror. Draco, on the other hand, looked the happiest he had looked in his life and he was observing the phenomenon very closely. Harry stared at him for a few moments but then felt his Maker pull his arm.

"Witness what is about to happen, young one," Henry demanded, his free hand gesturing forward. "The miracle of a millennia."

Still confused and angry, Harry had no choice but to obey.

For the first time, he noticed the two yellow lights that were originating from eyes like those of a basilisk, shining even brighter than the fading white light that originated from the humanoid figure. The winds were subsiding and collecting, it seemed, behind the figure, causing a strong sucking sensation for a few seconds. As soon as the wind was gone there came one last ray of bright light and then all was still and quiet.

At that moment, Harry saw it clearly for the first time.

Snow white marble carved into perfection was before him, the statue portraying an instantly recognizable middle aged man in one of the classic dueling stances; his right hand - usually the armed one, but in this case, wandless - was extended forward, index and middle fingers pointing at the target, and the left hand placed near the right forearm with the purpose of shield casting. The posture was perfect and graceful, every detail about the correct angles of the arms and legs impeccable, the result of a dueling master frozen in time amidst a battle.

Then the statue's wizard robe changed within a few seconds.

It gradually became dark and cloth-like, completely losing the texture and appearance of marble, which made it look like the garments had been placed on the statue itself. The hair became life-like as well, transforming from stone into a flowing black mass, as well as the long, dark beard. Yet the flesh on the body and the face remained chalk-white and as hard as marble - the face of Salazar Slytherin.

And the face was slowly moving.

Harry was stunned. The figure's eyelids appeared to be liquid stone for a few seconds as they slowly closed, the yellow light behind them suddenly gone. The texture seemed almost as hard and white as marble, but Harry could finally tell it was slightly different. It was the extremely hard flesh of a real, ancient vampire. During each tiny motion, the surface seemed to instantly melt only to return to its stone-like appearance as soon as it became still again, as if it had never moved. The figure's mouth opened and, with one loud intake of air - the first in a millennia - the stone-like being awkwardly fell on his knees, the body excessively stiff. His yellow eyes slowly absorbed the surroundings, the expression on the face one of complete shock.

"At last...My Master..."

Henry's reverent voice came from right beside Harry, but he couldn't move his gaze away from what was before him. Every slight movement as the being slowly began to breathe again looked too bizarre, the stone-like texture liquefying for an instant and then returning to its previous state, as if there had been no movement at all.

Henry Cunningham, his eyes shining with excitement, stood and approached the remarkable being, closely followed by Draco Malfoy, who was dragging Ginny by her wrist. The red haired girl had even more tears falling down her cheeks as she quickly reached out to Harry with her free hand when they walked near him, but couldn't reach. Harry knew she still expected him to save her, to rush to her aid, but his body forced him to remain motionless. He could only observe quietly, clutching his aching chest, his breathing labored. The pain throughout his body and the exhaustion made him feel like he was made of lead.

He could only observe, helpless, as Henry Cunningham gracefully knelt in front of Salazar Slytherin and, after a low bow, spoke to his Maker in a reverent, emotional tone. Harry immediately noticed Henry was speaking Latin, the universal wizard language during the Middle Ages. For the first time, he felt immensely relieved that learning the language was still mandatory at Hogwarts.

"Valetudo exsisto vobis, meus optimates," [_Health be with you, my Great Lord_] greeted Henry, and the stone-like being's yellow eyes focused only his fledgling's face, recognition slowly surfacing. Harry heard his Maker as he continued speaking in perfect Latin, the tone soft and affectionate, as if speaking to his sickly father. "A millennia has obduco utpote Gryffindor locus suus miserabilis Signum. Ego curo subterfugio, quod pro vicis ego insisto is terra lost vacuus vestri Valde regimen, pallens insquequo meus vox sensim reverto volo. Iam nostrum vires quod palma vadum reverto. Imbibo ex is vas of vita, Vinco, cruor of septem. [_A millennia has passed since Gryffindor placed his wretched Seal. I managed to escape, and for centuries I tread this earth, lost without your Great guidance, weak until my power gradually returned to me. Now our strength and glory shall return. Drink from this vessel of life, Master, the blood of seven.]_

Henry gestured with his hand and immediately an intimidated but determined Draco Malfoy approached them, dragging Ginny Weasley behind him.

The helpless young witch whimpered as Draco forced her to her knees right next to Henry. The blonde wizard glared down at her, pressing down her shoulders to keep her still.

Then Henry seized her face with both hands, startling her, but a second later she became motionless, her eyes wide with fear. The deceivingly young looking wizard-vampire switched back to modern English as he spoke to her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. There will be no pain," Henry assured her softly as he gently caressed her face with his fingers, wiping away her tears. Her eyes became more dazed each second as she looked into his. "Stay still and quiet. No pain."

Ginny's eyes would not leave Henry's, and her breathing became progressively slow and rhythmical. Fear left her pretty face and was replaced with complete peace and tranquility.

"Do not move," Henry ordered, still softly, as he moved her neck closer to Slytherin's stone-like mouth. The elder vampire seemed more than eager to drink the much needed liquid, but it was evident the body was still too hard, each movement lethargic. And yet there was a fierce glow in his basilisk eyes that clearly expressed his newly found awareness.

Henry held Ginny in his arms, almost affectionately, her head resting sideways above his elbow, the side of her neck completely exposed. He moved the girl as close as possible toward his maker and, very slowly, Salazar Slytherin opened his marble mouth, revealing two long, extremely sharp fangs that cut into her flesh as soon as they made contact.

The effect of the feeding was visible almost immediately.

Only a few seconds passed before Harry noticed the unusual haze forming all around Slytherin's body. It had to be his magical aura, but it was almost unbelievable to Harry, who had never seen anything like it before - it had every single color and shade imaginable. As it radiated strangely, electricity forming within the smoke like a small storm cloud, Slythein's body gradually lost its marble texture. The skin was still pale but not nearly as white, and as the elder vampire withdrew his mouth, the movement had been as graceful as that of any other of his kind. Slytherin sighed with pleasure, savoring the remaining drops of the most delicious blood he had ever consumed in his long, immortal life.

He stood, and as he did, so did Henry and Draco, who had been kneeling. The elder vampire gazed at the chamber he had made so long ago, but still felt like it had been recently. He observed his powerful hands as he closed and opened his fists, slowly coming to terms with what had happened.

A moment later, Harry knew Henry and his maker were whispering to each other but their voices were hushed, and the weakness still present throughout his body had numbed his senses. He could no longer keep up with what they were saying. They conversed for a considerable time, comprehension dawning on Slytherin's face. The whole time, Malfoy merely watched them with the same amazement as Harry.

Then Lord Slytherin looked down at the unconscious form of Ginny Weasley.

"Vigoratus puella iam. Suus cruor est quoque proprius, nos servo suus," [_Heal the girl now. Her blood is too special, we must keep her_] ordered Slytherin, looking straight at Draco Malfoy, who gave a low bow and immidiately carried Ginny a few feet away. He carefully placed her on the stone floor, took out his wand, and began to move it close to her body as he began to recite a long incantation.

"Asriel, meus plurimus fidelis parvulus, vos ero remuneror valde pro vestri factum," [_Asriel, my most faithful child, you will be rewarded greatly for your achievements_] Lord Slytherin said with intense delight.

"Ego sum veneratio ut servo vos, Valde Sator," [_I am honored to serve you, Great Creator_] Henry answered reverently.

At this point, Harry knew his body had reached its limit. His vision was becoming impaired again, and before he could stop himself, he was laying sideways on the floor, groaning. The conversation going on in the room sounded distant, but he could still hear some of their exchanges with great effort.

"Secundum nos subsisto Hogwarts, nostrum domus, vos vadum docui mihi totus illic est scio super parcus universitas, meus discipulus. Tunc ego mos constituo ut, quod quam, Novus Universitas Ordo vadum suscipio," [_After we rebuild Hogwarts, our home, you shall teach me all there is to know about the modern world, my fledgling. And then I will decide when, and how, the New World Order shall begin_] Slytherin was explaining.

"Sic, meus domino," [_Yes, my Lord_] answered Henry.

"Vestri liberi es quoque mei, quod they ero remuneror valde pariter. Lemma vadum sto praeter meus per ut procer. Vado quod vigoratus vestri primoris unus, sit in poena quod is must exsisto gratias ago pro quis is has perfectus," [_Your fledglings are also mine, and they will be rewarded greatly as well. They shall stand beside my throne as princes. Go and heal your first one. He must be thanked for what he has done_] declared Slytherin. As soon as his exhausted brain processed what the elder vampire had said, Harry felt intense relief, but also shame and anger.

A few seconds later, he saw his Maker's face as he gazed down at him with a smug expression.

"My dear fledgling, are you in pain?" asked Henry gently as he knelt next to Harry, lifting the sleeve of his robe. "It seems your body barely withstood that sudden transformation." He moved his wrist toward Harry's mouth. "Drink. It will heal you quickly, and also answer some of your questions without wasting our time." He winked, the smile growing on his handsome face.

Harry could only glare at his maker, still confused at what had transpired, but the burning sensation and weakness were too much. Without thinking twice, he bit into Henry Cunningham's wrist and drank.

The bliss was overwhelming.

It was literally a heavenly substance, what he was consuming, he was sure of it. As the ancient and powerful liquid entered Harry's body the familiar flow of images came - within a few seconds - into his mind, but as he was used to now, they all made sense to him. In a moment, he understood.

He saw a beautiful auburn haired woman wearing what he could easily identify as an elegant, pureblood witch robe, standing in front of Henry Cunningham. It was his mother, Lily, and she was handing him a huge, ancient tome. "Lord Cunningham, thank you," she whispered excitedly, her eyes glowing fanatically.

Harry saw his mother, hours before that had occurred, chanting a long incantation that made a rune of light appear inside her baby's room. It absorbed into the baby's body, and then reappeared again on the floor, large enough to cover the entire room. Lily stood in the middle of it, moving her wand in slow, complex motions while Henry closely observed from a corner. After a while, Lily cast a magic circle, the rune still drawn with white light, and stood in the center of it. She held baby Harry in her arms and kissed him on the forehead, whispering, "I'm sorry, my sweetest. This will protect you."

His mother then put him back on the crib and raised her wand at him, speaking another incantation. Bright white light landed on the baby's forehead, and a shiny lightning shaped mark appeared on it. The infant merely stared calmly at his mother, apparently unharmed. Lily held him again, tears running down her cheeks as she pressed her beloved son against her chest, rocking him softly.

Harry then saw Lord Voldermort as he came into the room that night and shot the Killing Curse at the baby, only to watch, flabbergasted, as the curse returned to him to destroy his mortal body. Only the strong tug on the center of his being kept him on the earth, his bodiless soul forever bound to the cursed Mordorgoth child. All this happened while Henry Cunningham watched with satisfaction, hidden in that very same room using an invisibility spell.

Harry then heard Henry's voice inside his mind, the sound as gentle as it had been a moment before.

_You were my Chosen One. I waited for you for centuries._

_When your mother first brought you before me, I knew you had the potential immediately. You were the one whose soul we would bind to Voldemort's, and therefore, to Gryffindor's Seal, where he had unknowingly merged his own believing it to be a Horcrux. Only the act of you killing the half-blood could have resulted in a rupture strong enough to undo the hated seal that, long ago, had turned my lord and maker into marble. _

_Your mother urged me to allow you to live a normal mortal life until the moment to fulfill your destiny came. I agreed, knowing that only your thirst for vengeance would enable you to reach the power you needed - the power to posses a pure black aura and end the life of the half-blood, and in doing so, the bond that tied you to him._

_Come, follow us. We shall teach you elements of the supernatural unknown to most mere wizards, concepts too complicated for simple minds. Awake, child, and follow... for our Great Lord is beyond a wizard or a vampire._

_He is a god._

The delicious liquid was abruptly taken away from him. Harry gasped, instinctively holding on to Henry's wrist. But his Maker's strength was unfathomable, and with a slight twist he pulled his arm away from the hungry fledgling. Harry sighed as the burning went away throughout his entire body, the healing effect of the blood immediate. But he could also feel the magical exhaustion wearing him down, continuing to weaken him.

"Now stand tall and witness the greatest power known in existence," Henry commanded as he stood. He gestured toward the kneeling figure of Lord Slytherin, who had placed both of his strong hands on the stone floor underneath and was quickly uttering a rare incantation. "See now why my Great Master had been shunned back then and judged by ignorant fools like Godric Gryffindor."

Slowly, Harry managed to stand beside his maker, glaring furiously at him and for a moment, not caring what would happen next. "My mother and father," growled Harry, cursing the fact that he had no power left. "You watched them die!"

"No, no, they gave their lives for our cause," corrected Henry dismissively, waving his hand. "But don't worry, it won't be for long."

"What do you mean?" demanded Harry, but then he was immediately distracted by strange, loud sounds like those of thunder. He looked around and studied the Chamber of Secrets with amazement.

The large basilisk statues appeared to be completely covered with thin rays of electricity, and they were glowing with a blue haze. The thin beams of lightning passed from one statue to another, on both sides of the chamber's main passageway, starting from the one on the farthest part of the chamber toward the one in the front, closest to where Lord Slytherin was kneeling. Underneath the elder wizard-vampire, a large magical circle had appeared, and inside of it, a complex rune that radiated bright white light. The lightning from the closest snake statues landed on the rune, empowering it.

The light expanded, similar to how it had moments before Slytherin's return, encompassing the entire chamber and then absorbing into the walls, floor and ceiling.

As soon as it was gone, Harry noticed that right behind Slytherin there was a large stone archway with an almost transparent veil inside, the edges blurry as if it was only partially materialized - the ghost of the same archway Harry had seen a year before inside the Department of Mysteries.

And this one was shining faintly, the water-like substance in the middle suddenly more noticeable.

Lord Slytherin gracefully stood and paced a few steps away from it, then turned to face it, his long, dark robe swirling behind him. Draco Malfoy was still busy healing Ginny Weasley, but he glanced up with curiosity, observing the archway with amazement. Harry hadn't realized he had been slowly following Henry in the direction of the archway, but stopped halfway there, still absent-minded and distracted. He was too busy studying every detail about the amazing scene before him, rune still glowing on the floor and the veil suddenly glowing more brightly again.

And then came Lord Slytherin's imperious voice, right after the elder vampire had lifted his arm, pointing at the archway with his index and middle fingers.

"_Immunda resurrectio_," muttered Slytherin.

A beam of light that appeared to be the reflection of Slytherin's magical aura, came from his hand and landed on the center of the archway. As soon as it made contact, it expanded throughout its surface, covering it completely with a myriad of colors. Then the haze absorbed into the ghostly archway.

There were two silhouettes standing side by side on the other side of the archway. The substance that was the veil made it seem like they were standing on the other side of a foggy window, slowly approaching from their side. Harry observed closely as the two silhouettes finally reached the threshold.

Harry felt like his heart had flipped inside his chest as soon as the two figures entered the Chamber of Secrets.

A man and a woman came out from behind the veil.

The man had shabby jet-black hair, glasses, an arrogant expression and a face identical to Harry's, and the woman had long, wavy auburn hair and radiant green eyes - _his_ eyes, exactly. They wore wizard robes slightly different to the ones Harry had seen them wear on so many magically animated photographs and inside the Mirror of Erised five years before. Their current robes were clearly elegant and expensive, identical to the ones preferred by most pureblood wizards; garments appropriate for nobility.

Harry's mother and father were now present inside the Chamber of Secrets, their expressions, for a moment, one of stupefied awe as they regarded their surroundings and comprehension began to dawn on both of their faces.

Harry froze inside.

Nothing about them made it seem like they weren't real, but he was still too shocked to accept it. They looked exactly like they did in every single photograph he had seen - at least, physically. He watched as both Lily and James became aware of their situation, and after finally understanding, they knelt simultaneously before Salazar Slytherin.

Close to the elder vampire's side was Henry Cunningham, who was gazing at the pair with satisfaction.

"Laus Valde Domino Slytherin," [_Praise the Great Lord Slytherin_] uttered Lily and James simultaneously in a reverent tone, their bow low enough to almost reach the floor. Their eyes were filled with admiration as they looked up at Slytherin, amazed by his presence.

"Sto per veneratio, meus fidelis secuutus," [_Stand with honor, my faithful followers]_ greeted Lord Slytherin with his imperious voice, gesturing at them to stand. A moment later, they were on their feet. Henry Cunningham approached them.

Henry and Lily greeted each other with a tight hug, and James did the same, like close friends that hadn't seen each other in a very long time.

Harry found himself lost within a myriad of thoughts and emotions, his attention no longer focused on the interactions of the ones before him.

It suddenly hit him how much he had not known about his mother and father after all. He had always believed what Dumbledore and other member of the Orders had told him about them, but now he wondered just how much information they had kept hidden. And yet, he simply couldn't internalize the fact that those were really his parents standing some feet away from him. The parents he had never met, or at least, did not remember meeting before.

Soon, Lily's emerald green eyes - the ones everyone always told him were his - wondered around the Chamber of Secrets until they found him.

Immediately, her entire face lit up with great happiness. "Harry!" she cried excitedly, and after one glance at Lord Slytherin, who nodded, she strode across the distance that separated them so quickly, it seemed that within a second Harry was in her arms.

She embraced him very tightly, practically sobbing his name as she did, and Harry felt his body become tense with shock, still not believing what was happening, his arms stiff on his sides.

"Oh, Harry, my boy! I'm so sorry for all you went through," his mother whispered as she hugged him. "But it was all necessary. It's over now, darling."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw that it was his father's. James Potter was watching Harry with a warm smile.

"We're so proud of you, son," James told him, and hugged his son just as tightly after Lily eventually released him.

Both parents studied their teenage son with great pride, but Harry could only stare at them, speechless, his mind flooded with too many questions and emotions. His mother trapped him again in another tight embrace, tears of happiness still falling down her cheeks.

"Come along, son," his father said as soon as Lily released him.

James Potter was moving towards the other ones present in the chamber. Nearby stood Salazar Slytherin, his hard face full of determination and at his right side, a very smug looking Henry Cunningham, gesturing at Harry to come along. Next to him was Draco Malfoy, his expression very similar to that of Henry's. Only then did Harry notice the slight change in Draco's eyes, the extra glow that now existed inside his silvery irises. Ginny Weasley stood close to Draco, looking completely healed but staring blankly at empty space, her eyes unfocused.

"My darling, it's okay. We're all together now."

Harry glanced next to him and saw his mother extending her arm toward him, offering her hand, her body turned in the direction where James Potter had just walked off. Harry stared at Lily for a moment and noticed the immense warmth inside her eyes, the clear reflection of the motherly love he had missed out on all his life. All of the sudden, his worries disappeared.

Harry firmly held his mother's hand and walked beside her toward the others.

* * *

Miles above, there was only pain and destruction.

The gorgeous, gothic castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry mostly looked like an ancient ruin, especially the giant room known as the Great Hall.

The walls had holes in them so huge, the extensive school grounds and even the Forbidden Forest could be seen from inside. A great amount of smoke that came from where spell blasts had fallen filled the room with the smells of different materials burning. A huge, cursed fire burned in one of the corners, where a large part of one of the wooden dining tables had ignited. All around the floor there were bodies of students, Aurors and Death Eaters alike. Most of the stone floor was stained with blood and covered in dust and debris.

Aside from the sound of fire, there were also scattered groans. They came mostly from a petite blonde witch that was lying on the floor, curled into a ball and feeling like her entire body was slowly burning from the inside. She could no longer see or hear or understand what was happening around her. All she knew was the agony the wretched Death Eater had decided to inflict upon her, and she continuously thought how much better it would have been if she had been hit with the Killing Curse instead.

_"Please...I want this to end," _she thought to herself miserably. "_I want to die already! Make it stop!"_

She could no longer remember who she was. She could feel the vital force leaving her, but it was moving way too slow, the agony only increasing with each second. All she could do was beg obsessively for all of it to end.

Then she felt a pair of strong hands holding her. She looked at the person, her brain unable to register who it was, but even amongst her agony, she knew this was someone she had seen before. Straight blonde hair, piercing silver eyes, pale skin...

"Look here, Potter. A couple of Hufflepuffs in pain," sneered Draco Malfoy in a mock-surprised tone as he gazed down at the girl in his arms. "Shall we put them out of their misery?"

Harry gracefully knelt close to Draco. There was another Hufflepuff girl lying near them, also suffering from the effects of a Dark curse meant to kill the victim in the slowest way. He acted just like Draco and held the girl in his arms, letting her head fall back as she groaned.

"Why yes, Malfoy. I think we shall," replied Harry, flashing a dark grin at his comrade before he bit into the girl's neck very quickly, drinking her blood in a manner he was sure was much less painful than the curse she was enduring.

Draco's grin was even darker, the lust of a newly made fledgling evidently displayed through the sudden glow in his icy eyes. His heart filled with glee as he let instinct take over him in a way he had now known before, but had only dreamed of. He became conscious of the two sharp fangs present inside his mouth, savoring each second as much as possible, and then he bit into the side of the girl's neck. The instant the liquid made contact with his tongue, he was lost, as all fledglings are, in the intense pleasure of the feed - his first feed. He gushed the liquid hungrily, barely able to suppress a moan as he did.

Not only her blood but also her life force or magical aura was merging with his. Draco felt as he was literally taking her life into him as he drank, a new and overwhelming sensation. All her knowledge and memories came to him within a few seconds and the feel of the warm liquid was too delicious, too pleasurable for him to stop.

But then he felt someone much stronger than he was pull him away from his victim.

"Now, Draco, remember what I told you. You stop when she dies," Henry reminded him with a condescending tone. He looked down with amusement at the angry young vampire that was glaring daggers at him.

"Oh dear, I _pity_ any mortal that crosses your path from now on," Henry chuckled. "Go on, then, feed until you feel satiated," he ordered, gesturing dismissively with his hands. Draco immediately stood to cross the hall. "The same goes for you, Harry," added Henry, gazing at his older fledgling. "You're still weak from the premature transformation. Go."

"Yes, master," answered Harry, and he quickly moved toward the other side of the hall, where he could sense more life force.

The entire Great Hall was suddenly filled with clouds of vapor. Lily and James Potter both stood before the gigantic fire that was consuming almost half of the hall, their wands raised toward it as they attempted to eliminate the stubborn, enchanted flames. Ginny Weasley stood motionless on the threshold of the hall, her eyes still unfocused as she gazed at empty space, lost in a trance.

Henry Cunningham went to stand beside his maker, who was in the middle of the large room examining his surroundings. He could clearly feel the elder vampire concentrating his power for a purpose, and he merely observed in silence as the remarkable aura began to faintly emanate from his maker's hands.

About ten feet away from them, Draco and Harry browsed for suitable meals. Harry had to look at Draco when he heard the blonde chuckle all of the sudden.

"Oh, Merlin. Look, it's Lavender Brown," drawled Draco in a mock-sad voice. "Mind if I feed off your dear friend?"

Harry gazed at the girl coldly. "No. Mind if I feed off one of _your_ friends?" he asked, pointing at a very pale Pansy Parkinson, who was motionless next to him. He suddenly thought she might be dead, but he touched her wrist and there was still a pulse.

Draco laughed cruelly. "Drain her as much as you want," he sneered, then bit into his victim's neck and drank greedily.

Harry held Pansy in his arms and did the same, this time making sure to drink as slow as possible, her life too fragile as it was for it to be worth it otherwise.

Henry Cunningham continued to observe as Lord Slytherin extended his arm forward and a bright beam of light made by his own magical aura shot out. The beam moved toward the farthest end, where the Headmaster's table had been, and over the glass window that composed nearly the entire wall behind it. The glass was mostly shattered. But right after the light expanded upon contact, the window was repaired instantly, only to be covered seconds later with a thick, cloth-like material.

"Ex cinis cineris a novus quod melior Hogwarts vadum orior oriri ortus," [_From the ashes, a new and better Hogwarts shall rise_] declared Slytherin with a determined expression. He watched, along with his faithful fledgling, as the conjured material acquired shape and color.

A large banner of Hogwarts School materialized above the glass window, covering it completely, from ceiling to floor. It was almost the same design it had been since the school's foundation, composed by a ribbon like material that displayed the name of Hogwarts in large print at the top and a phrase in Latin in small print at the bottom. But the color of the ribbons was silver instead of gold, and the crest that was in the middle of the ribbon-like drawing was different.

The shield shape that was formerly divided into four parts to represent the four Houses was no more. Behind the elegant printed "H" there was only green, and behind it, a lone serpent, large enough to cover the entire area of the crest. There was no lion, badger or eagle - only the snake.

Draco and Harry observed the making of the new banner, the light from the spell distracting them from their feeding moments before.

The blonde wizard-vampire's mouth curved into an accustomed smug grin. Only that this time, it was filled with more pride than ever.

"Finally," Draco mused. "It's about time that banner looked right."

**~*~* End of Tainted: The Hero's Revenge *~*~**


End file.
